Great and Terrible
by Nitares
Summary: Most believe the Dark Lord to be dead and gone but Lord Voldemort had always been adept at inspiring loyalty. His most fanatical supporters escaped justice and waged a war from the shadows in his name. As Harry Potter prepares to attend Hogwarts, he is in greater danger than ever and must find the power to protect himself and those around him. Slytherin!Harry
1. Prologue

It's been quite a while since I've written anything of substance and this is half passionate project, half writing exercise. This chapter, the prologue, was written some time ago and I'm picking it up again. Therefore there may be some stylistic differences as I shake the rust.

Thanks to BTT and the good folks of DLP for their help.

Disclaimer: This is a work of Harry Potter themed fanfiction and as such I hold no rights to anything written below or in subsequent chapters.

 _ **Summary** :_

 _Most believe the Dark Lord to be dead and gone but Lord Voldemort had always been adept at inspiring loyalty._

 _His most fanatical supporters have never given up on him, striking from the shadows for years and causing untold hurt. Harry Potter is in greater danger than ever._

 **Prologue**

Vernon Dursley liked to think of himself as a patient man. At work he dealt with obnoxious, pompous clients working for international corporations as well as local contractors, eager to get the finest Grunnings' machinery on site. At times he could scarcely tell who were worse, but he always dealt with them politely; many were of the opinion he was quite a charming man.

If that wasn't enough he'd had the patience to go along with it when his wife's hippy sister got herself killed and landed them with another mouth to feed. He'd taken the boy in with a minimal amount of fuss and though he proved to be quite a challenging child, Vernon knew he was well regarded in the community for taking in such a burden without complaint.

Today, though, he was running out of patience.

Every day for the last week at precisely a quarter to four a man appeared on the corner across the street. He would sit on the bench outside the bakery and stare across at Grunnings' yard, alternating between the gates and Vernon's window. He was a tall, thin man with a disgustingly unkempt pair of mutton chops and a garish, multi-hued woolen jumper. He looked like exactly the sort of dreg who clogged up the nation's dole queues only to spend the money on cans or worse.

He was interupted from his brooding when the shift bell rang through the yard and with a heavy sigh he gathered what little paperwork he needed, stuffed it into his briefcase and grabbed his coat. Today was the day he'd confront the man and demand to know exactly what his business with Grunnings' was; unless of course the stranger broke from habit and decided not to follow him. If that was the case it wasn't worth the risk of being seen talking to such a runt.

In fact, he supposed, it made no sense for the stranger to continue following him day after day. After all it was only for a mile or so before he lost interest. Perhaps, he thought, the stranger was just in a routine that had absolutely nothing to do with himself and he was simply being overly paronoid.

He could hardly blame himself for the occasional bout of the willies; his nephew _by marriage_ had everyone in the house wound up tight as a swiss clock with his weird antics. He still didn't believe the poppycock he'd been told by Petunia over the years but the boy definitely wasn't quitenormal. Thank goodness Dudley had turned into a decent child.

Yes, it was hardly anything actually sinister, no need to confront the man.

Vernon locked his office and headed through the small hallways towards the management car park. He climbed into his not quite new but definitely expensive BMW and pulled out of the yard. To his relief the man on the corner was now reading a newspaper, not paying the slightest bit of attention to him.

 _You deserve a holiday, Vernon. A long one._

By the time he pulled into a garage to fill up on petrol he'd forgotten about the strange vagrant, his mind filled with visions of a week in Spain with Petunia and Dudley.

He finished at the pump and headed inside to pay, muttering darkly at the crowd of tracksuit wearing youths half blocking the shop entrance. They moved aside all too slowly for his liking; their lack of manners clearly a product of lenient schooling and a growing immigration problem. The boys at the social club were always talking about these ruffians.

He reached the counter and handed the cashier his card, enjoying the look on her face as she realised it was a corporate edition. As he turned to leave something made him stop mid stride; out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a man reading a newspaper in the seating area of the garage. He had a hideous wool jumper, dirty mutton chops and wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to Vernon. He hurried from the shop, leaving behind a pack of bacon fries he'd tacked on to his petrol bill. He ignored the teenagers on the way out, practically threw himself into the car and drove from the garage at something that barely resembled the speed limit.

It was at least five miles from work to the petrol station, farther than the stranger had ever followed him before and there was absolutely no way he could have beaten him there on foot. He had to have taken a motorcycle, probably passed him out when he was stuck in the damnable junction that used to be Portshead roundabout. That made the most sense, he thought. Yes, no use getting worked up over another coincidence. His breathing started to slow as he relaxed.

Another fifteen minutes driving and he was well into suburban Surrey and back in his comfort zone. The well kept lawns and hedges helped restore a sense of order to his day and the neat rows of near identical houses eased his mind.

That sense of ease was shattered as he turned to drive into Victoria Close and he noticed the man with the mutton chops leaning casually against the bus shelter. This time he stared, looking Vernon dead in the eye. His lips twitched into a gastly smile, exposing yellowing teeth. There was something so overtly sinister about it that Vernon nearly missed the turn and avoided ploughing into Mr. Stokes' hedge by half a foot.

The man was on the move now, following him in a light jog as Vernon drove off more sedately. He couldn't very well rally his car the whole way through the close into Privet Drive no matter how deranged the man looked.

He glanced a look in the mirror and saw the man keeping an easy loping stride behind him. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as he monitored the stranger's progress. He needed to get home, bolt the door and call the police. That was the sensible thing to do, for all he knew the man could be some sort of escaped mental patient, murderer or worse. He could be one of his nephew's supposed lot.

He was rapidly approaching the turn off for Privet drive when the strangest thing happened. The man in his rearview mirror stopped abruptly in the middle of the road and pointed to the sky. A flash of light erupted into the sky and when Vernon looked again he was gone. He stopped the car and looked around, trying to catch sight of where the man could have disappeared to but the street was empty. The man may as well have turned into smoke.

He was sweating profusely now, utterly unnerved by the spectacle he had witnessed. He simply sat for a moment in the car, refusing to believe what he'd just seen. Surely he'd just been under too much stress at work. The Quinn account had taken a lot of his time and he needed them to buy the heavy bore machinery in bulk. Petunia had told him he'd been overworked lately.

He calmed himself and pulled off again, driving down the rows of houses into Privet Drive and pulled into his driveway.

He'd resolved not to tell his wife of the day's events. He didn't want her to think he was going bloody mental after all.

The rest of his day after that went more to plan. Petunia had cooked a wonderful dinner which his nephew had swallowed as quickly as he could before running from the table. At least the boy being ungrateful was business as usual.

By the time he turned in for bed that night he had all but forgotten about the days' events and had resolved to take a long weekend once the Quinn account was settled. He'd earned that much at least.

The next morning came and Vernon woke to the smell of bacon coming from downstairs. He threw his legs out of the bed and wiped at his face groggily before donning a robe and lumbering downstairs.

His nephew was turning bacon on the hob and buttering a stack of bread slices, Dudley was staring at him waiting patiently for a breakfast that was in all probability taking longer than was reasonable.

What was strange was Petunia. She was standing in the conservatory rattling off into the phone when she spotted him. She made a quick polite excuse and hung up.

"Oh Vernon, you'll never guess what has happened."

"Hmm, what's this?" He asked, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"The Cresswells at the end of the road. They were found dead in their beds this morning. Brian, Yvonne and the two boys."

Vernon's head snapped up at the news. Brian Cresswell was a close friend of his from the social club and while not in what Vernon would call particularly good shape, his wife was certainly a looker and fit as a fiddle to boot. "What happened?"

"They think it was carbon monoxide poisoning, all four of them just lying dead in the house. I've been telling you we need to get one of those alarms, Vernon. We can't have that happening to our Dudley."

"No. No you're quite right. I'll pick one up from the hardware on the way back from work." He said.

Petunia seemed mollified and hurried off to ring one of her friends to break the news. Vernon just stared into his cup of tea, trying to suppress the cold feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Vernon and Petunia attended the Cresswell's funeral service and grieved appropriately. He shook hands with Brian's brother and wrote a heartfelt tribute for his friend in the social club's periodical. Time passed as usual though and soon even the rumour mill had died down. Wild theories had become exclusively the domain of the strange and paronoid fringes and carbon monoxide alarms had been bought and installed in every home belonging to anyone halfway responsible.

The stranger never again appeared outside of Grunnings' yard and though Vernon remained on edge for quite some time he never spoke a word of the events of that disturbing day. He had quite enough on his plate without people thinking he was completely off his rocker.

Everything had returned to normal by and large. Even his nephew's strange incidents had decreased in frequency. He was becoming increasingly reassured that "magic" was a load of rubbish and he was simply a normal man under the pressures of high station. A lot of responsibility rested on Vernon Dursely's shoulders, it was really only natural for the stress to build from time to time.

Christmas came and went in a flurry of disaterous weather conditions and expense. Dudley had come up with a christmas list of astounding length, oil prices were through the roof and the damnable government were introducing carbon taxes for industrial vehicles. Traditional home grown companies such as Grunnings' which were the backbone of Englad were going to be hit the hardest and Vernon had a team of eggheads working double time to find a loophole.

All in all, February found him to be extremely stressed. It didn't help that Dudley was finishing his last year of primary school and preparing for his first year at Smelting's. He was proud of course but Petunia had just been dithering around like an excited sparrow and it was all he could do not to snap at her.

He was seated in his office staring at a thick folder filled with numbers, quotas and incoming legislation changes, trying to follow what the reedy man in front of him was saying when the phone rang. Inwardly, he sighed in relief at a chance to interrupt the whinging idiot.

"Apologies Francis, we'll have to carry on with this later. Important business." He nodded to the phone and the man nodded understandingly and gathered to leave. He answered the phone as the solicitor closed the door behind him.

"Verno-" He started before being interrupted by his wife's frantic voice.

"There's a fire, Vernon! There's a fire at the school!" Petunia roared down the phone.

He was up and out of his seat even as he tried to clear up the situation. "What? Is Dudley alright?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Chorley rang me. Vernon get down there quickly!"

He slammed the phone on the hook and hurried from his office, not bothering to explain to his secretary as he passed, trying to throw his coat on over his shoulders as he heaved himself into the car park.

It took him less than fifteen minutes to make the journey to St. Andrew's Primary and he was quite sure he'd been extremely carefree with the concept of safe driving on the way. When he was five minutes away he could see the smoke rising into the air in a thick black column and his blood ran cold. Surely if there was that much smoke the building was utterly gutted.

He turned to approach the school only to find the area cordoned off. Police cars and fire engines lined the street and dozens of cars were parked haphazardly as terrified parents were directed to class groups being shepherded by their teachers. He caught sight of the school itself then; it was a truly horrifying sight and he imagined he could feel the heat of the inferno even while seated in the car. Flames danced through the air and billowed coal black smoke. The flames were so dense he could barely make out an outline of the building. He abandoned his BMW beside a minibus and headed straight for the nearest group.

He quickly sighted Mr. Stone, the deputy headmaster of the school whom he occasionaly ran into at social events. He regarded Jonathan as a friendly acquaintance and reasoned he'd get the most news from him.

"Jonathan!" He called over the clammering crowd. The red haired deputy turned to look at Vernon and a dark look crossed his features.

"Where are my son and nephew, John? Is Dudley safe?" He asked, panic still coursing through him.

The deputy sighed and ran a hand over his face wearily.

"Mr. Dursley. Young Dudley and Harry are both safe and sound. We do however need to have a long talk."

As he said that he realised his conversation had been watched and two grim looking policemen were walking towards him.

"Now see here I'll talk to you when I see my son is safe, John." He sputtered.

The policemen had approached and lay a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Mr. Dursley. We'll take you to your boys."

"What is this about?" He demanded.

The younger officer grimaced and looked away, slightly awkwardly while the other's face remained impassive.

"Just come with us, Sir." He said. His tone betrayed nothing but Vernon was suddenly shaken with apprehension.

Several hours later Vernon sat in an empty conference room in Little Whinging's police station, his hands cradling his head.

He'd been brought there in a squad car along with Dudley and Harry and when they were in the station an officer had pulled him aside to explain what had happened.

Apparently Harry and Dudley had smuggled a large amount of fireworks into the school and set them off in the schoolyard. A few had veered through the window of the school's small library and set the place alight as if it were dry tinder.

Thankfully it seemed that nobody had been hurt in the incident but the school had been entirely gutted by the flames before the fire brigade could arrive. It was all they could do to stop the mass of fire from spreading.

Words were exchanged. Indignant denials on his part, claims of irrefuteable evidence on theirs, damage estimates with entirely too many noughts tagged onto them. It had been a nightmare.

It had to be the boy.

He had taken him in, fed him and gave him a home for a decade. Everything he had given his nephew had meant his son had to receive a little less and after everything, after he had done his utmost to stamp out the boy's innate weirdness, he had been repaid with this stunt.

He'd always been afraid that such close exposure to his oddity would taint his son and now, it was happening. His worst fears were coming true. Potter had become some sort of delinquent pyromaniac and was ruining his son's reputation. How would Dudley ever get into Smelting's now? He felt utterly sick with suppressed anger.

He looked up as the door opened and the young officer from earlier entered the room.

"Mr. Dursley. Your sons are outside with your wife. Due to the sensitive nature of the investigation and the ages of those involved you're all free to go home. I will need you to come in tomorrow morning to discuss where we go from here." He said, curtly.

"Did the boy confess yet? Dudley would have had nothing to do with this. You ask him and he'll tell you himself. Dudley is a good lad." He was trying to reign in his anger. Badgering the policeman would do nothing for him but anger still seeped through his tone.

"We'll be disclosing more of the investigation tomorrow, I'd advise you bring your solicitor along." The younger man replied before leaving.

Vernon's moustache quivered and he grabbed his coat.

The drive home was filled with furious accusations, threats and frantic denials. Dudley was in tears as he protested his innocence which only made Vernon angrier in his verbal lashing of his nephew. The boy denied all, of course, saying that it wasn't his fault.

"Well then how do you explain the bloody school burning down! They saw the fireworks, boy! If the CCTV survived you're in for it. It'll show everything and exonerate Dudley to boot!"

"It wasn't me I swear! It wasn't even Dudley!" His nephew protested.

"Well explain then! I've had enough lies from you, Potter. If this is another incident of yours, I swear I'll cart you off to the borstal myself! Where did you get the fireworks?"

"There weren't any fireworks at all, I swear! It was this weird man. He was dressed really funny and had a weird had beard that didn't cover his chin or lips. He wa-"

"What did you say?" Vernon interrupted. His foot eased on the accelorator as his blood ran cold.

"His beard was odd, it didn't cover the front of his face. But he wa-"

Vernon interrupted him again. "What did you say he was wearing?"

"A strange multi-coloured wooly jumper. That doesn't matter, what matters is..."

Harry had continued talking but Vernon had stopped listening entirely. His mind raced back to all those months ago when the strange man with the mutton chops had followed him home only to disappear across the road from the Cresswell's house. Surely the boy wasn't telling the truth? The teachers had seen the fireworks after all.

"Dudley, you'd better be telling the truth. Was there a man like that there?" Vernon asked quietly.

Dudley looked up from the window, surprised. He'd mostly been left out of the questioning from his father.

"I don't know, Dad. There was a weird looking man talking to Harry and then another weird man came and... I dunno. I reckon they gave him the fireworks." Dudley said replied quietly.

Two strange men?

"There were two of them? Is that where you got the fireworks, Boy?" He pressed.

"No! I just said. The man with the beard was shouting stuff at me when the other man appeared from nowhere. He was this big bald black man. As soon as he appeared they started shooting lasers at each other! I swear I know it doesn't sound real but I'm telling the truth. Dudley, you were there you saw it!" Harry pleaded with his cousin.

Dudley simply turned away with his eyes down and muttered something about fireworks.

Vernon pulled in on the hard shoulder and looked across at his wife. Petunia's mouth was in a small grim line and she was whiter than he'd ever seen her since the night her nephew was left on their doorstep.

"Petunia?" He asked quietly.

"Just get us home, Vernon. Please do it quickly." She said in a small voice.

Vernon pulled out and set course for Privet drive, feeling more confused and worried than ever.

Nothing much was said when they returned to the house. Harry was sent directly to his room. Due to the stress of the day Petunia broke from habit and ordered a takeaway. When he was alone with her he asked the question that had bothered him the whole drive back.

"Pet, could there be any truth to what the boy is saying?"

She didn't look at him as she shuffled around the kitchen. "Don't be ridiculous, Vernon. He's clearly lying and has far more of his father in him than we thought."

"Petunia?" He pressed.

"What, Vernon?" She snapped. "What do you want me to say? He's telling the truth? I don't very well know, do I?"

"When the boy landed on our doorstep, Petunia, you said your sister had gone and gotten herself blown up. You told me about the weirdness they were into and how he was probably going to be just as weird. We said we'd not let him go that way," he stammered.

"He's always going to be that way, Vernon. It's what he is. He's one of their lot!" She groaned, sitting down on one of the new armchairs and sinking her head into her hands.

"You keep saying that. You say that and then you ramble on about your sister and some school in Scotland for people different than us. That night you said they were witches and wizards. You said they used magic!" He demanded.

"What difference does it make what I said? You never believed me and how could you? It's all insane!"

"Petunia, I saw the man the boy described. Months ago. He followed me home and shot some sort of laser into the sky the night the Cresswells were murdered."

Vernon said this quietly, as if sharing a secret with himself. He'd intended never to tell anyone of the strange incident and let it fall away into the back of his mind where he could happily ignore it along with other uncomfortable topics like homelessness or homosexuality.

If it was possible, Petunia paled further in front of him, visibly wilting. "Oh Vernon. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"What does it matter? I was sure I was imagining things."

"It matters because it means they know where we live!" She half wailed.

"You think... you think we're in danger?" He pushed.

"As long as he's connected with that lot we are." She said miserably.

Just then the doorbell rang and they both jumped out of their skin. Vernon chuckled weakly. "That'll be the Chink."

He fished a twenty pound note from his wallet and opened the door only to come face to face with a tall man with sparkling blue eyes and a long silver beard dressed in what could only be described as a fluffy bathrobe. The man smiled genially and held out a bag that looked suspiciously like Vernon's chinese.

The tall stranger spotted the twenty Vernon clutched in his hand and laughed.

"No need, my good man. I bumped into the delivery man on the way here and elected to buy you dinner. May I come in?" He asked politely.

Usually after being bought dinner and asked in such a polite fashion, Vernon would have felt obligated to invite the man into his home. It happened to be a very unusual day, though, and he didn't feel like taking any chances.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

From behind him he heard a small scared voice. "Headmaster Dumbledore?"

He turned to Petunia. "You know this man?"

"Yes, come in quickly, now," she said, as if she were scared of him being seen on their doorstep; which due to his appearence Vernon thought entirely reasonable.

The old stranger inclined his head and stepped in as Vernon moved aside.

"How are you, Petunia? It's been some time since our last correspondance."

"What are you doing here?" She demanded.

"Ah, straight to business then. No need to offer me dinner, it was after all a gift." He walked through into the living room and eyed the furniture before taking a long stick from his dressing gown and waving it.

The air left Vernon's lungs all at once as a large comfortable armchair appeared out of thin air and the man settled into it.

Petunia winced at the display but didn't seem very surprised.

"What in blazes is going on here?" He demanded, still holding the takeaway.

"I'm afraid it's about today's unfortunate events." The headmaster's tone became quite a bit darker as he continued. "The man responsible for the fire has unfortunately not been apprehended."

The man responisble. Did that mean the boy had been telling the truth? "We were told the boys had let off fireworks, are you saying something else happened?"

"Quite. I'm sure to those not, how we say, "in the know," it would have looked like quite the fireworks display. The truth unfortunately is far more sinister. One of the followers of your sister's murderer, Petunia. He figured out where Harry was attending school and came for him. If it were not for the timely intervention of Auror Shacklebolt I'm afraid we might have lost Harry."

"The boy did say there was a man there today. A man with mutton chops." Vernon said quietly.

Dumbledore grimaced. "Yes. A man by the name of Ignatious Doyle. We believe him to be responsible for the recent murder of a family living nearby."

The news came like a hammer blow to Vernon. He hadn't been going crazy when he thought the man was responsible for the murders and Petunia's nephew might very well have been telling the truth.

"Why does he want the boy?" Vernon asked tightly.

"Ah. As to that we can only speculate. Who knows why madmen do what they do? Be that as it may, I believe Harry to be in quite some danger. If he were to stay in this house or the surrounding area he would be fine. Doyle would never be able to overcome the protections that lay in your blood, Petunia."

Vernon sputtered indignantly. "What did he say is in yo-"

"Shh Vernon. Later," she admonished him. His moustache quivered but he let it lie for the moment.

"As I was saying. Harry would be perfectly safe here." Dumbledore continued. "However, Doyle has proven himself to be not only resourceful but uniquely ruthless in his willingness to disregard the statute and murder innocents. As the time of Harry leaving for Hogwarts grows nearer I fear... significant collateral damage. Were it not for our decision to place a guard around Harry after the Cresswell murders well, things might have ended badly."

Vernon sat down heavily. He felt very much as if the walls were starting to close in on him.

"What do you intend to do about this, Headmaster?" Petunia demanded. "When I agreed to take him in I did so understanding that my family wouldn't be in harm's way. Can you guarantee we're safe?"

"I have long since learned to make no guarantee casually, Petunia. While I believe you would indeed be quite safe I am not willing to risk the safety of others in the area. With your permission of course, I'd like to take Harry away from here where he can't be reached by this Doyle fellow. He'd be leaving for Hogwarts in the next few months anyway but at least if he's not here Doyle will have no reason to attempt anything reckless."

Petunia nodded in agreement. "Fine, you have my permission. I just don't want anything happening to my family over the head of this."

Dumbledore inclined his head in agreement. "Shall I fetch the young man then?" He asked.

"No I will, don't worry." Petunia said, darting out of the room.

Vernon stared at the man in the armchair in silence for a moment. He leaned forward in his chair and narrowed his eyes, weighing up the man before him.

"Do you have something you wish to ask me, Mr. Dursley?"

"As a matter of fact yes I do." Vernon replied, leaving further forward. "Where the bloody hell did you pull that armchair from?"


	2. Chapter One

Thanks again to BTT and Darklordpotter.

 **Chapter** **one**

Sunlight slipped through the curtains in narrow beams as Harry woke. He was groggy at first, but as he grumbled and thought of rolling over, the importance of the day came to him in a rush of excitement. He hopped out of bed and threw on his clothes, not bothering to checkhimself in the mirror before leaving his bedroom.

His room was on the very top floor of Rookhope, the isolated house Professor Dumbledore had brought him to all those months ago. It was a strange old housewith corridors stretching off in unusual directions and rooms in areas that in all likelihood should be empty space. The headmaster hadtold him it belonged to his grand-uncle before he passed without a family of his own to leave it to. It lay forlorn, slowly falling to ruin in the wildsof the north pennines before Dumbledore secured it and brought him there from Surrey.

He reached the ground floor and hurriedto the kitchen where Remus sat reading the Daily Prophet at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Harry. Excited I take it?"

Harry grinned as he helped himself to some of the sausages that lazily turned themselves on a pan hovering above the fire, keepingthem at just the right temperature.

"Can't wait. What time are we going?" He asked.

"Well, Hestia should be here shortly but, I was talking to Professor Dumbledore last night. He said Hagrid wants to join us for the day, so we'll wait for him I think. Will you manage?" He teased.

"Just about. I've been here for eight months now and not seen anything but this place. Not that I'm not happy here," he hurried, notwanting to sound ungrateful. "You all just talk about these places and I feel out of the loop."

Members of the Order frequently passed through Rookhope, some even staying for a day or two at a time but Harry found it hard to relate to them. He knew it was only a matter of time, that once he had seen Diagon Alley and Hogwarts for himself that things would be different, but he still felt isolated.

When Dumbledore had escorted a very confused Harry from Privet Drive and brought him to the muggle village down the road, he'd taken the time to walk with him towards the house, explaining what was happening and why.

He'd told him about magic, the truth about his parents, and explained that the fire at his school had been started by someone called a Death Eater. They'd tried to kill Harry and would have succeeded if not for the interventionof another wizard called Shacklebolt.

It had been a massive amount of information for Harry to take in. He might even have refused to believe the old man if not for his history with strange events and the fact that as they walked through the country lane, small orbs of brilliant white light danced around their heads, seemingly in time to a tune the wizard was humming.

The arrived at the ramshackle manor to be greeted by what seemed to be a small welcoming party. There were about adozen witches and wizards in all who had come to introduce themselves and welcome him back to their world, including Remus, a lifelong friend of his mother and father, though Harry suspected many were there for the chance to relax and socialise with their friends over a few drinks.

Eight months later, he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that these people considered him special or that he was worth going to all this trouble for. He was just Harry, after all. He hadn't stopped Voldemort through any feat of skill, he was just a kid. Thatit meant more to them, though, was plain to see. Many clapped him on the back in passing even after their introduction and one small, balding wizard was reduced to a fit of tearful joy every time he tried to talk to him. Harry tried to avoid the man as much as possible after the first incident. It was really quite embarrassing.

"Well after today you'll be able to relate to the others a little better," said Remus, breaking Harry from his reverie, "Diagon Alley is in many ways, the heart of Wizarding Britain. Though if you're anything like James I imagine we'll have a hard time keeping you out of Quality Quidditch supplies."

"I just can't wait to get my own wand," Harry replied. Remus had been a wealth of information about his parents, and Harry had greatly enjoyed the nights where he would sit by the fire and tell stories of their adventures. On the other hand, he occasionally seemedto forget how little Harry knew of things like Quidditch. The rules had been explained to him and he had listened to matches on the wireless, but without seeing it first hand he could barely make heads or tails of it.

It was only half an hour later when he heard the floo in the living room roar to life and a harried looking witch with flyaway red hair strode into the kitchen.

"Apologies, boys. I was running a little late this morning," she said distractedly before taking a seat.

Harry smiled. Hestia was always running 'a little late' and the middle aged witch was entirely too forgetful, but she was always a laugh, the first to call Remus out when he started to brood.

"Oh no problem Hestia, we were starting to wonder if we should just give up on getting Harry a wand and wait until next year,"Remus joked, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

"Oh shush, Hagrid isn't even here yet."

Hestia barely had the words out of her mouth before the roar of a motorcycle echoed through the house followed by a great crashing sound.

"Speak of the devil," Remus said, getting up from the table and placing his mug in the sink where a scrubbing brush started to clean it with a mind of its own. "I do wish he'd get the hang of that bike though."

Harry and Hestia followed Remus out of the kitchen and to the rear of the house which was less of a yard and more of a hillside that stretched hundreds of metres. Standing over a stricken motorcycle stood a giant of a man with a long bushy black beard. He heard them approaching and turned to wave.

"Remus! She's still cuttin' out when I come in ter land. Tha's the third time this week!" Said Hagrid irritably.

"We'll have the discussion about gears again tonight, Hagrid, but for now do you have something for us?" Remus asked politely.

"Ah righ' yeah," Hagrid said, patting his jacket pockets before reaching inside his left breast and pulling out what appeared to be a telescopic baton. The huge man extended it with a flick of his wrist and passed it to Remus who hummed appreciatively and tappedit with his wand, causing it to shine bright blue for a brief moment.

"Sorry to be a pain," Harry said, "But what's that?"

Hestia stepped forward with a smile. "That, Harry, is our Portkey. Dumbledore made it to get us from here to the Alley."

Harry studied the baton in confusion. "How does that work?"

Remus held it out and Harry followed Hagrid and Hestia's lead by grabbing hold of it. "Magic. Don't let go." Remus tapped it a second time with his wand and Harry suddenly felt as if he was being pulled forward by his navel. The world around him disappeared, replaced with a flurry of bright lights spinning like leaves in a hurricane. Wind howled in his ears and direction meant nothing at all to him as he hurled through space, struggling to right himself in the vortex, only to crash to the ground with a thump. He groaned and picked himself up to see his three companions standing upright, seemingly completely unruffled by the experience.

"Don't worry, Harry. You get used to it after a while," said Hestia.

"Speak for yourselves," grumbled Hagrid, looking distinctly green around the gills.

Harry looked around, they had arrived in a dingy old bedroom with peeling paint and warped floorboards. The room smelled faintly of sick causing Harry to crinkle his nose in disgust.

"Uh, it isn't exactly what I was expecting," he said.

"Oh, this is just one of the back rooms in The Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore arranged it with the landlord beforehand. He didn't want us appearing right in the middle of the pub after all," Remus explained.

"Right, let's get to it then!" Said Hestia cheerfully.

Together they left the dreary room and navigated the odd winding corridors of the Leaky Cauldron before descending a flight of stairs into a large, dim pub thronged with dozens of witches, wizards and peoplethat Harry was quite sure weren't entirely... people.

Harry noticed that they were attracting quite a few stares, something he attributed to the huge form of Hagrid in their wake. "Hullo, Tom!" he shouted to the bartender who waved back.

"Hagrid!" Hestia scolded, "We're supposed to avoid attracting attention you great lummox."

Hagrid looked both chastened and slightly hurt. "Now there's no need ter be like tha', Hestia. I was only sayin' hullo. Takes nothin' ter be polite."

Harry chuckled as he saw Remus roll his eyes at the interaction.

"Come on now, let's get a move on," he said, ushering them forward and through the back room of the pub.

They emerged in a small yard covered in moss and empty wooden barrels which Harrythought was quite unimpressive, but he knew enough to not say anything just yet.

Remus walked forward confidently and tapped the bricks of the wall in front of him in what seemed to be an utterly random sequence.

For half a second nothing happened and then, with a great grinding noise the wall started to pull itself apart, bricks rearranging themselves in a flurry of magic. By the time the dust had settled an arch had formed in the wall large enough for three to pass abrest.

What lay on the other side of the arch made Harry's breath catch in his throat.

Diagon Alley was everything Harry had imagined it to be and far more besides. The street thrummed with life and colour and the very air seemed to be thick with magic. Tiny fairy-like creatures zipped by, motes oflight trailing in their wake outside a store with a large blooming multi-coloured canopy.

Wizards and witches sat outside cafes in the summer sunshine, some laughing or in conversation, while others sat back reading newspapers in peace. Harry spotted one wizard entertaining himself by choreographing the smoke emitting from his pipe, making it dance in the shapes of multiple figures on wispy broomsticks.

The street itself was as haphazard as Rookhope or The leaky Cauldron, all rough edges and zigzagging lines with shopfronts set away from the road even as the upper parts of the buildings leaned precariously over it.

"It's brilliant," he breathed.

He felt Remus clasp a hand on his shoulder. "Seeing it for the first time is always something special, even for those of us who were raised in this world. Now. Our first trip is to Gringotts'. Hagrid and I will come with you, I believe Hestia has some other business to attend to."

"Quite right, Remus. It'll be interesting to see what Mundungus has for us, today."

"If ya see him, tell him he still owes me those galleons," Hagrid murmered.

"I'll be sure to mention it. Enjoy the goblins!" She said merrily as she strode off into the crowd.

"Goblins?" Harry asked, curious.

Remus' face twisted in slight distaste. "Gringotts' is run by goblins, Harry. They can be quite nasty and treacherous at times so they make excellent bankers."

"Jus' don't try to steal anything and you'll be fine. They're a greedy lot," Hagrid added.

They walked off towards Gringotts which Hagrid pointed out to him as the huge white marble building that split the alley in a fork. Armed Goblins stood at the doors clutching long cruel looking spears and staringstraight ahead.

Inside the place was simply cavernous. The main floor was surrounded by a horseshoe of high oak desks, each presided over by a different goblin. They were strange looking creatures with fierce looking pointed teeth, long sharp noses and beady eyes; but for all their menacing appearance Harry couldn't help but think they looked comical in their little suits.

"Righ' I have a wee errand to run for the Headmaster. I'll meet ya back here before we leave." Hagrid said. He left in the direction of a particularly large around the middle Goblin teller.

"It's still hard to believe I actually have money," Harry said to Remus as they approached a desk. "My aunt and uncle always told me my parents had nothing."

"Well I suppose to them it would have seemed that way, Harry. You have to remember that James and Lily left school at the height of the Voldemort's power. They joined the Order almost straight away. After James' parents died he had a good amount of money to live off so they didn't need to rush to work."

The whole thing seemed bizzare to Harry but he was grateful. He had worried about he was going to afford everything before they explained his parents' situation to him.

The goblin at the desk finished scrawlingon a piece of parchment, filed it away and turnedhis attention to them.

"Key?" he asked.

Remus dug his hand into his pocket andproduced a tiny gold key. The goblin accepted it and studied it for a moment before hoppingoff his perch and beckoning them to follow. As he left an almost identical goblin hopped up onto the perch he had just left and continued filing paperwork in his stead.

They walked through the polished marble halls in silence for a few minutes before coming to a large set of doors that opened with a wave of their teller's hand. On the other side of the doors was a small platform like you'd find in a tube station. Their guide snapped his fingers and within moments a small cart appeared from the darkness and stopped in front of them with the sound of screeching breaks.

The goblin climbed in and Harry made to follow but Remus grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hold on tight and whatever you do, don't look over the sides."

Harry felt a sudden wave of concern as they climbed into the cart. Surely it couldn't be that bad, the track seemed level enough.

He cursed himself for thinking that when,as soon as he was halfway inside the cart it flew off into the darkness, dumping him uncerimoniously between Remus and the goblin. The older wizard helped him up into a seat while the cart whirrled dizzyingly around corners at breakneck speed.

Harry felt his stomach flip several times, close to emptying itself but he held his composure. He has a sneaking feeling that their driver was enjoying the whole situation and Harry felt that at least some of the turns didn't need to be quite so reckless. They hurtled deeper and deeper into the earth and Harry started to realise just how utterly massive the caves below Gringotts actually were. They passed through a waterfall that didn't soak them at one point and Harry saw a great gout of flame rising from below making him wonder just what else the bank was storing.

At last their cart veered through a small tunnel and they slowed to a stop in front of a large vault door made from dirt coloured metal inlaid with gold and silver. The goblin climbed out of the cart somehow much more gracefully than the two wizards and approached the door, slipping Harry's key into a tiny keyhole in the middle of the door. When he turned it the door shuddered and dust from the ledge above fell to the floor as the bolts holding it fast withdrew and it swang open silently.

Harry's eyes widened as he stepped forward. Inside were great mounds of gold coins, columns of silver sickles and piles of bronze knuts. A few other odds and ends, most likely antiquities sat near the rear of the vault butit was the money that grabbed Harry's attention.

"Remus, how much is this?" he asked, breathless.

"Don't get any big ideas, Harry. It's enough to get you through school for a start. After that you could probably live in comfort but you'd be emptying the coffers so to speak. After school I'd reccomend you think more about adding to this than taking from it. Unless you intend to be the last Potter." Remus said.

Harry could tell he was only half joking and he had no intention of squandering his inheritance but he was suddenly glad the Dursleys never knew about his parents' money.

Remus produced a small pouch and filled it with a little from each of the piles in front of him and handed it to Harry. "Now, that should be enough to sort out your school suplies for the year and leave you a bit of money for school. You can't go to Hogsmaede yet but if you're smart you can convince the upper years to bring you a few bits and pieces back," he said with a conspiritorial wink.

Harry accepted gratefully and stowed the pouch in his jeans. It really shouldn't havefit in his pocket but he wrote it off as just another miraculous magical oddity.

They rode the cart back through the caverns and left the goblin's company without another word. The creature left him with a decidedly bad impression with his surly look and piercing stare. As they left the bank and stood outside waiting for Hagrid Harry turned to Remus.

"Why are goblins like that?"

Remus looked uncomfortable. "They're probably not all like that, Harry and I'm the last person who is inclined to judge magical creatures harshly but they have more than earned their reputation throughout history. If you can stay awake during history of magic you'll learn more about them."

Harry nodded, still unsettled as he saw the guards outside the bank glaring at him.Fortunately it was then that Hagrid emerged from the building.

"All done here, folks. Where to next?" he asked, jovially.

"You think you're ready to get your wand, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Let's go," he replied, grinning.

They crossed the alley and set towards a narrow dingy looking shop with a large sign that read, 'Ollivander's: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C." Harry did a double take at the date on the sign before being ushered into the shop by Remus.

It was a dim, dusty old shop with barelyenough room for a dozen people to stand before the counter which behind, stood row after row of shelves reaching up towards the rafters. Each shelf must have housed hundreds of wands in long slim, mostly dusty boxes.

"Ah, Mr, Potter. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you."

A man strode out from the gloom between the shelves startling him. He had grey eyes that seemed to look right through him and his head was covered in a thinning mop of flyaway white hair. All in all, Harry thought, he looked at least as eccentric as Headmaster Dumbledore and quite a bit more eerie.

"Mr. Ollivander, it's a pleasure to see you again," Remus said extending his hand. Ollivanderrounded the counter and grasped it but his eyes remained focused on Harry. It lasted for a long moment before he took a sidelong glance at Hagrid.

"Hm. Doesn't look to rain today, Mr. Hagrid," he said, staring at the large man's umbrella.

Hagrid's face suddenly went a violent shade of pink and he muttered something about a parasol and remembering he had to visit another shop before backing out of the shop.

Harry looked at Remus, confused but the older wizard was eyeing ollivander with amusement.

"Was there really any need for that?" he asked the wandmaker.

"I wouldn't go to Hogwarts and parade the corpse of a unicorn wrapped in a pink tutu in front of him. I see no difference." He passedRemus and grabbed Harry's arm, extending it and studying it closely.

"This is your wand hand then, Mr. Potter?"

"Er, yes I suppose so," Harry said.

"Right, let's get to it then. If you're anything like your mother you'll take quite a bit of time," he said, disappearing into the stacks.

Harry soon learned that the old man wasn't joking. It was well over an hour later when Ollivander, exasperated sat down on a stool. The counter was piled high with boxes of discarded wands deemed completely unsuitable. Harry was beginning to dispair that no wand would be a match for him and he'd be shipped uncerimoniously back to Privet Drive. Even Remus was starting to fidget.

"I was afraid it might come down to this, Mr. Potter. I have a feeling I know the wand you're specifically suited for." The wandmaker rose and went far into the stacks, emerging a minute later with a box that looked a hundred years old at least. "This is one of my earliest wands, Mr. Potter," he said. "Give it a whirl."

Ollivander opened the box for him and Harry reached in grasping the wand. Instantly he felt the difference. Of course none of the other wands were suitable for him, how could theybe? None could even come close to matching the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him when he raised it. He gave it a swish and bright crimson sparks showered the shop, pure magic coursing from him and through the wood. It felt as if the wand was singing in his hand.

"Holly and Pheonix feather. Eleven inches."

"It's perfect," Harry said, breathlessly.

Ollivander hummed. "I thought it might be. The pheonix who donated that feather gave one other. I encase it in a yew wand and sold it sixty years ago to a young boy who grew into a terrible man. The man who gave you that scar" he said, gravely. "It seems more than simple history connects you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Now really, Ollivanderh" Remus said quickly, temper coating his words. "Why would you tell him that?"

"I do not lie about my wands, Mr. Lupin and especially not when it concerns a wand as powerful as this," he turned to Harry. "Take note, Mr. Potter. This wand's brother commited great and terrible acts. The same potential lies inthe wand you hold. It falls to you and you alone to decide its course."

Harry suddenly felt as if he was holding something extremely dangerous, but it sat so perfectly in his hand he felt no other wand would every really be his. He paid the strange old wizard and left the shop hurridly with Remus in tow.

"That wasn't exactly what I expected, Remus," Harry said as they emerged.

"No, Ollivander has always been quite odd but that seemed exceptional even for him," Remus replied, evidently still bothered by the conversation. "In a roundabout way he made a good point though. You decide your destiny, Harry. Sharing a wand core with Voldemort means nothing in the end."

Harry nodded but privately he thought Remus was a lot more agitated about it than he was letting on.

Hagrid was nowhere to be found after his swift exit from Ollivander's so the pair continued on to Flourish and Blott's where Harry picked up all of his textbooks and a few more aside on Remus' recommendation. They visited the apothocary where he picked up his ingredients and tools for potions as well as picking up a nice spacious trunk that Remus assured him would last through all his years at Hogwarts and probably beyond.

Afterwards Remus insisted that they break for lunch and guided him through the crowd towards a small cafe with outside seating.

"Well Harry, what do you make of it all so far?"

"It's great. I just wish it didn't all seem sostrange. It seems so normal for you guys," Harry said.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, your mother was raised as a muggle and she fit in just fine. Turned out to be quite a brilliant witch, actually. She had an infectious enthusiasm when it came to learning about magic."

Harry was curious about his mother's handling of being introduced to the wizarding world and wanted to hear more about her time at Hogwarts but Remus was starving an insisted they order first. In the middle of their table sat a small roll of parchment with a quill attached by a fine golden thread. Remus picked it up, hummed thoughtfully and scribbled his order, a simple bowl of soup and bread. He handed it to Harry who was amazed to see the writing fading back into the notebook leaving it blank again, before the words,Anything to drink?appeared all on their own. Remus chuckled at Harry's confusion before apologising andasking Harry to order him a pumpkin juice. Harry ordered a sandwich and milk, watching carefully as the words faded from the page again.

"Do you learn how to make things like this in Hogwarts?" He asked.

"You can if you put your mind to it. Hogwarts teaches you the basics of magic which will be more than enough to get you through your day to day life. For example, that scroll was enchanted to communicate with its pair in the kitchen. You learn the basics of enchanting in charms class but its through your own experimentation and practice that you'd come up with that scroll. It's why you don't see many mass produced items in the wizarding world. Your mother was quite the enchantress while your father specialised in Transfiguration."

Harry was about to continue questioning Remus when Hagrid rejoined them,accompanied by a worried looking Hestia.

"Remus. A word," she said quietly, pulling him aside. They walked a few metres from the table so that Harry couldn't tell what they were saying but the hushed tones and erratic hand gestures didn't bode well.

It was then that Harry noticed the man standing amongst the crowd outside Quality Quidditch Supplies glancing over at them. He didn't quite fit in with the crowd, dressed in muted colours and an overly large robe. Where they were talking animatedly he was standing slightly away, as if wishing to appear part of the crowd without them noticing. Harry recognised the yellowing teeth and bushy cheeks as the wizard smiled at him sending shivers down his spine.

"Remus," he said, getting to his feet and pulling at the older wizard's robes.

"Give me a moment, Harry," he replied, before turning back to Hestia.

The wizard with the mutton chops stepped away from the crowd and started walking slowly towards Harry, passersby occasionallyblocking him from view.

Panic started to well up in Harry's chest. "Remus!" Harry practically shouted, pointing in the direction of the man who now had his wand drawn.

Remus must have noticed the urgency in Harry's tone because he looked in the direction Harry was pointing only to be struck by a jet of bright green light. Even as Remus crumpled to the ground silently Hestia had returned spellfire at the wizard who deflected it with ease. All around him people had noticed the altercation and with growing panic in the wake of realisation they started screaming, running to and fro, trying to avoid the duel. The cafe emptied in a flurry of overturned tables.

Harry felt Hagrid grab him bodily and fling him behind his bulk, blocking Harry's view of what was happening, he felt rather than saw the heat from the fire pouring from Hagrid's umbrella in the direction of mutton-chops.

Within moments the alley was in total chaos and Harry himself couldn't fathom what was happening. Why wasn't Remus getting up? Was he that badly hurt? He felt his chest tighten at the thought of his parent's friend whom he'd lived with for the last few months.

Dimly he heard Hestia shout to Hagrid, warning him to get Harry out of there but Hagrid was busy pouring fire at a woman with long brown hair, dressed in the same muted colours as mutton-chops. She fired spell after spell at him but Hagrid seemed to absorb most of them without trouble.

"Run Harry!" The huge man bellowed furiously as he fought the witch.

He heard Hestia scream in pain and he looked to see her fighting with what was obviously a badly maimed leg.

He was terrified but couldn't bring himself to run from the people who had become his friends in the last few months. He felt his wand in his pocket and drew it, pointing at mutton-chops who was bearing down on Hestia.

He swang it in the wizard's direction, bellowing out with all his might and sparks flew from the holly wand's tip. Mutton chops was blasted from his feet and flew clear across the alley before looking up with pure hatred etched across his face. It was then Harry realised that more wizards had appeared in bright blue robes and were firing on both mutton chops and the witch duelling Hagrid. He realised that his shower of sparks had done absolutely nothing and it was one of the wizards who had just arrived that had saved Hestia.

As the wizards advanced, one grabbed Harry and moved him behind him, still firing on the pair. Realising he was hopelessly outnumbered, mutton-chops shielded a barrage of spellfire, shot one last look of loathing at Harry and poured fire from his wand into the nearby Flourish and Blott's before disappearing with a sharp crack. Another crack followed and he realised that the witch had followed suit.

The whole fight had started and finished in less than a minute leaving Harry in a state of semi-shock. He struggled to comprehend what had just happened around him and judging by the faces scattered around the alley he wasn't alone.

Beside him one of the wizards in blue cursed and rushed to the burning shop, casting spells at the fire as he ran to no avail, it burned with an intensity he could scarcely believe and danced as if it had a mind of its own. He saw people running from the shop in panic but otherwise alright but others... He heard agonised screams coming from the bookstore and with a sickening lurch he realised that people were caught in there. Shopfronts everywhere were battered and smashed by spellfire and glass littered the street.

In the middle of it all Hestia sat bleedingfrom her left leg over what was clearly the lifeless corpse of Remus Lupin.


	3. Chapter Two

Thanks to everyone at DLP who suggested edits and provide the soundest of sounding boards. Feel free to drop a review if you enjoy it. Or if you hate it.

 **Chapter** **2**

The baton portkey deposited him on the uneven ground of Rookhope's mountainside yard and he stumbled, rolling a few yards through the tall grass before coming to a stop.

He just about managed to get to his feet when Hagrid grabbed him by the arm and hurried him down the hill, through the broken weed-strewn stonework of the yard to the kitchen door at the rear of the house. Once inside, Hagrid reached into one of the many pockets of his brown oversized coat and took out a black spinning top covered in tiny symbols.

Harry moved numbly to the side of the table and watched as Hagrid tapped it with the tip of his umbrella. When a moment passed in silence Hagrid let out a breath and placed the device on the table.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Sneakoscope. Let's yer know when there's people who mean no good about. Blasted thing must have been goin' mad in the alley but I had 'er stuffed down me pocket."

Harry sat down at the table and realised he was shaking. He could still see Remus crumpling to the ground, Hestia's mangled leg and hear the screams coming from the bookshop.

"Those were the people Professor Dumbledore warned me about weren't they?" He asked.

Hagrd sighed and ran a hand through his beard.

"Aye, that they were. Death Eaters they call themselves. They're a bad lot, Harry. The worst o' the worst. Bloomin' cowards the lot o' them and that's the nicest I'll say."

"Will Remus and Hestia be alright?" He asked tentatively.

Hagrid looked pained at the question and Harry's heart sank.

"Remus is dead, isn't he?"

"Tha' rotten mongrel hit him with bad magic Harry. The type o' magic there's no comin' back from," said Hagrid, suddenly looking very tired.

It wasn't fair, Harry thought to himself. He'd only just been getting to know Remus. He was his father's best friend and had told him more about his parents in his few months at Rookhope than the Dursleys had in his entire life.

Now he was gone, just like his parents. All of them had died protecting him. Unbidden tears started to form at the corner of his eyes.

"Voldemort's gone. Why do they keep coming after me? Can't they just leave me alone?"

Hagrid winced at the name slightly but put a hand on his back reassuringly. "When you got rid of You-Know-Who there was a lot o' people right grateful to ya. The Order won't let them near ya, Harry."

"If they knew when I was in the alley what makes you think they won't come here?'

"If Professor Dumbledore reckons yer safe here then yer safe as houses. There's no better wizard out there."

"How nice of you to say, Hagrid."

Harry looked over his shoulder at the doorway where the Headmaster stood clad in green robes with a large furry cloak that looked decidedly out of place in the summer weather.

"While Hagrid may exaggerate my abilities a tad, I'm more than sure of the strength of Rookhope's defences. Anyone hoping to cause trouble here will be met with quite a few imaginatively nasty surprises."

Harry felt a little more secure at that and as the old Headmaster conjured a plush armchair for himself he turned slightly on his chair to address him. "Were you at the alley, Sir?" He asked, eager for news.

"Indeed, Harry. By quite a fortunate happenstance Mr. Fortescue has several ways to contact me in an emergency such as this. Unfortunately, I arrived much too late." His face darkened for a moment and Harry was sure he was thinking about Remus.

"He's really gone then?"

"I'm afraid so, Harry. He will be sorely missed," Dumbledore said, bowing his head slightly.

Hagrid placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him and maneuvered himself around to give one to the Headmaster. Harry hadn't even noticed him boiling the kettle.

"What about Hestia?" He asked, half afraid of the answer.

"Hestia took a nasty curse to the leg. It will be some time before she is fully healed but for now, she is in no danger."

"The people in the bookshop?"

At this, the Headmaster's mood darkened noticeably and for a moment it seemed as if a shadow passed through the room.

"Doyle, it seems, has developed a fondness for fire. He used a spell which created cursed fire that is almost impossible to put out. I managed to extinguish the flames but the people inside were lost to us."

"Those people died because the Death Eaters wanted me," Harry said, a hollowness to his voice. "If I hadn't been there they would have gotten about their day."

"Now see here, I'll 'ave none 'er tha' talk. Those people were rotten to the core before you were even a thought." Hagrid interrupted.

"Hagrid is right, Harry. These people followed Voldemort willingly for years with an almost religious fervour. You're not responsible for the actions of mad men. Think of how many lives would have been lost over the years had Voldemort not been undone the night he attacked you."

He didn't know what to say to that so he brought the cup of hot tea to his lips. Wrapping his head around how many people's lives had been spared was too difficult to comprehend while he could still hear the screams from Flourish and Blott's.

His thoughts must have been easily read as the Headmaster sat forward and caught Harry with an intense look.

"It does not do to dwell on that which we cannot change, Harry. We can only look to ourselves and forward, to a tomorrow where we can make a difference. Remus will be greatly missed as the truest of friends and a great wizard. Mourn him, yes... But do not dishonour his sacrifice by allowing yourself to become lost in the process."

The old wizard's were filled with warmth and for a moment Harry felt a little less lost.

They sat in silence until the sun threw long shadows across the yard and they were all thoroughly sick of tea.

The Headmaster announced that he had to leave and Hagrid escorted him to the floo in the sitting room, leaving Harry to wonder just what this wizarding world had in store for him.

It had almost been a month since the attack at Diagon Alley and in the morning, Harry would be travelling to London to catch the train to Hogwarts. He had reasoned he was probably closer to Scotland than London at Rookhope but Hestia had just smiled and told him the Hogwarts Express was tradition.

Hestia had been released from St. Mungo's a few days after the attack. Her leg had been badly wounded by the curse and she had explained to him that the dark nature of the magic prevented the normally stellar staff of the hospital from healing it fully. As a result she walked with a pronounced limp and a cane that looked decidedly out of place on such a young witch.

She'd taken to staying in the house with him more often than not. With Remus gone he supposed she'd been assigned to babysit him until he left for Hogwarts but he didn't mind, Hestia had been good company. She didn't talk down to Harry, and though she had taken Remus' death hard she always had a smile for him.

Remus' funeral was a small affair outside Nottingham that Harry hadn't been allowed to attend. Instead, Hestia had stayed with him and they held their own little vigil at Rookhope. It was that evening after dinner when the older witch had indulged in a few glasses of wine that Harry found her sitting in front of the drawing room fireplace staring thoughtfully at nothing.

He sat opposite her and she gave him a small smile.

"Thinking about Remus?" Harry guessed.

"Yes. We've known each other for nearly ten years. He was a good friend," she said softly.

"I wish I'd known him longer. Since I've been here he's told me so much about my parents it almost feels like I knew them too."

Hestia shifted on her seat, stretching her leg slightly with a wince.

"Your parents were good people. A few years above me in Hogwarts so I didn't really know them but they were very well respected."

"How did you meet Remus?" Harry asked.

"I was in my seventh year when Voldemort fell. You can't imagine the celebrations or the sheer joy of the time. It was like the whole world let out a breath we didn't know we were holding. It was all over." For a moment a look of contentment crossed her face as she was awash with memory.

"Then the Longbottoms were killed."

"The Longbottoms?" Harry asked.

"Friends of your parents, actually. A married couple, both aurors and members of the Order. They opposed Voldemort at every step. They were heroes."

"The Death Eaters got them?"

"Them and others. Many of Voldemort's supporters were caught and thrown in Azkaban after his fall but those that escaped carried on in his name. Not as boldly but it was bad enough that the joy the country experienced faded."

"I was an intern for the committee of experimental charms when the Order approached me. Remus told me about the Order, that they were continuing the fight against the Death Eaters. I joined up straight away."

Harry didn't know what to say. People had told him about Voldemort, how evil he was, what he'd done but the Death Eaters were rarely mentioned around him.

Hestia absently rubbed a finger around the lip of her glass bringing a soft noise from it, lost in memories.

"I'm glad you did," Harry decided on saying. "If you weren't there I might have died along with Remus."

That brought a small smile to her face and he silently congratulated himself on his tact.

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" She asked with a teasing smile. "Big day tomorrow."

"Can't sleep. I've heard so much about Hogwarts since I came here I think I'm too excited."

"That's normal, I couldn't sleep the night before either."

"What house were you in?" Harry asked. He'd wondered about what house he would be in ever since Remus had told him of his parents adventures in Gryffindor.

"I was and remain a proud Ravenclaw. It's the best house you know," she said with a wink.

Harry laughed. "Funny, Remus said the same about Gryffindor."

"Well everyone has a certain bias towards their own house. Where do you think you'll go?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me how it's decided." Harry replied, "I certainly asked him enough but he was stubborn about it.

Hestia smiled. "It's an old tradition to keep it secret from the firsties. Don't worry, all the houses are good in their own right, there's no perfect answer."

Harry nodded, deciding not to worry about it any longer. What would be would be, he resolved.

He and Hestia talked for a while longer, she shared memories of times with Remus, even vaguely alluding to a time where the Order had sent the two of them on a mission to the continent. She shied away from offering him any specifics about that one, no matter how much he wheedled.

Eventually, the fire had very nearly burned itself out and the shadows crept in obscuring the bookcases and wall hangings of the drawing room.

Hestia got to her feet gingerly, her leg obviously causing her discomfort and yawned, reaching up into the air.

"Time for bed I think, Harry, or you'll sleep the entire journey to Hogwarts."

He grudgingly got to his feet privately doubting he'd ever get to sleep and said goodnight.

When he made his way to his room, got changed and climbed into bed, he fell asleep almost instantly.

He rose early the next morning and collected his trunk, dragging it down the three flights of criss crossing stairs to the hall adjoining the kitchen.

He'd packed everything he'd needed the day before in a feeble attempt to pass the time, so he was ready to depart at a moment's notice. He pushed his trunk against the wall beside the door and went through the arching corridor into the kitchen.

Hestia sat at the table with a cup of tea and a copy of the Daily Prophet. She was wearing official looking robes of deep blue that were a stark contrast to her usually slightly more eccentric garb.

"Morning Hestia," he said in a cheery tone.

"Morning Harry," she said with a smile. She waved her wand over her shoulder and a plate of sausages and bacon leapt onto a frying pan and started sizzling instantly. Another flick of her wand set a knife to buttering a stack of bread. He'd seen the trick many mornings before but he couldn't help think how handy it could have been at the Dursleys. He caught himself wondering how they were. He liked to imagine his aunt would have a heart attack if she saw the animated breakfast.

He took a seat opposite her at the table and poured himself a cup of tea.

"What's with the robes?" he asked after a sip.

"Oh these old things?" She asked, dramatically gesturing to her outfit. "You're heading to Hogwarts so rather than rattling around here playing the Headmaster's housekeeper I'm due to go back to work."

"Oh, cool. Are you excited?"

"Well I've been on a sort of leave for the last year so it'll definitely be strange to go back but yes I suppose I am. Though experimental charms isn't half as exciting a career as it sounds."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think it sounds like great fun."

The older witch sighed. "It's mostly busywork day to day but... It has it's charms," she said with an exagerrated wink.

Harry pulled a face and she laughed, waving her wand and depositing a stack of bacon and sausage sandwiches in front of him. They looked delicious and he tucked in with fervour.

When he was half done two packages landed on the table in front of him with a soft thud along with a small cake with a candle.

Harry looked up questioningly at Hestia who was leaning on the table with her elbows looking at him expectantly.

"What's all this for?"

"Well Remus and I had planned a little party for your birthday but then... Well it just didn't seem like there was a right time in the last while so... Happy birthday!"

Harry grinned and opened the first present. The wrapping came apart easily and inside was a beautiful wooden frame with a moving picture inside. He recognised his parents immediately. They were sitting on a couch laughing while a much younger looking Remus played on the floor with a baby with a shock of black hair. The four of them looked so happy that Harry felt his throat heat up.

"No going getting upset now because you'll set me off and Remus would want to make you happy, not sad." Hestia scolded, though Harry was sure he could already see her eyes glisten a little.

He found a smile for her and the tightening in his throat eased slightly. "I just wish I could thank him."

"He would have just said something witty to ease the tension, the old bore. Now, for the pièce de resistance!" She exclaimed with a flair

Harry smiled and set the picture down beside his plate before reaching for the next present. It was wrapped far tighter and he eventually resorted to tearing the paper which seemed to please Hestia.

Inside was a leather bound journal and as Harry flicked through it he found that almost every page was filled with spells and diagrams.

"It's just a little something that might give you a leg up. These are all of the charms you'll find in your Hogwarts curriculum as well as a few others. I've written some tips and tricks as well as some of my own observations," she said with a hint of pride.

Harry didn't quite know what to say, not having a great deal of experience in the situation. He settled on a heartfelt thank you that brought a smile to Hestia's eyes.

"This'll be a huge help, I've kind of been worried that I wouldn't be any good at magic."

She laughed slightly, "I don't think you need to worry about that Harry. You'll be great," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

They talked about the book for a few minutes and shared some of the small cake. Hestia apologized that it wasn't bigger but claimed she'd never been much of a baker. Harry assured her that it was brilliant.

Not long after a small crack of apparition sounded in the hallway and Kingsley walked through into the kitchen.

Harry had only met the auror once at Rookhope but he would never forget the day he showed up at Harry's school to save him from the Death Eater with the mutton chops.

"Good morning Kingsley." Hestia smiled.

"Good morning Hestia, Mr. Potter." he replied in a deep voice. I hope all is well?"

Harry said good morning and hopped up off his seat and went to stow away his presents in his trunk while the adults made smalltalk.

When he wheeled it in behind him Hestia was putting on her outer cloak of deep navy.

"All set, Harry?"

"I think so."

"Robes, books, ingredients, quills, parchment, ink, all of that?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, I must have packed and unpacked half a dozen times."

"Good, then we're all set!"

Kingsley stepped forward and pulled a large wooden spoon out of his cloak. "Dumbledore's charmed this to activate with a specific phrase. When you're ready to depart simply say, 'Chudley.'"

Hestia chuckled but whatever was funny went over Harry's head so he just smiled and grabbed the spoon.

"I'll see you two at the Platform," he said before popping out of view.

Hestia made sure Harry had a good hold of his trunk, grabbed the spoon and muttered the password. Harry felt the sensation of a hook behind his navel and suddenly they were awash in a spinning vortex of air and colour.

The ride was rougher than Harry's last trip to Diagon alley and at one stage it felt as if he were being bounced around like a rubber ball in a tube. When he landed he did so flat on his back on cold tiles. He looked up blearily to find Hestia in a similarly shaken state, though she'd managed to keep to her feet.

He clambered up and looked around warily. He was on what was probably the biggest train platform he'd ever seen. It seemed to stretch for half a mile and in the distance was a truly massive scarlet red steam engine with a large crowd of people gathered around it.

"Was it meant to be that jumpy?" He asked Hestia who was smoothing down her robes and looked none too happy.

"People can't usually Portkey onto the platfrom. My best guess is that Dumbledore pulled a fast one on the anti-portkey charms and they put up a fight."

Harry still felt rather green, "Couldn't we have just come the normal way?"

"No, the Death Eaters are sure to know that you're starting Hogwarts today. We reasoned they would have someone disguised on the muggle side to keep an eye out for you."

Unbidden, the image of Flourish and Blott's in flames flashed through his mind and he was suddenly thankful of the Headmaster's foresight.

They started off on the long walk to the train which suddenly wasn't a long walk at all but after only a few seconds they were at the rear carriage. Harry blinked in surprise but decided not to question it as it hadn't seemed to phase Hestia.

The Hogwarts Express was magnificent. It looked well over a hundred years old in style but brand new with shining paint and polished brass trimmings. Steam billowed from the chimney and little clouds rolled over the platform from the undercarriage.

To his left there was a gigantic, elaborately wrought arch with a frightening realistic mosaic that depicted London. Tiles clicked and crawled over themselves, sporadically changing and depicting different scenes from the city. Every now and then students and families would burst through it as if it were no more than an illusion.

"That's the entrance from King's Cross station in muggle London. That's where we'd come through under normal circumstances." Hestia informed him.

Harry marvelled at the sight of more and more students coming through. Older kids who laughed and met with friends on the platform, some hugging, others clapping each other on the back or wrestling and younger kids who looked around in amazement or trepidation. The air was filled with a cacophony of hooting owls, purring cats and croaking toads.

He saw Kingsley standing inconspicuously in the distance, to all appearances looking like a bored wizard reading the paper.

"Are there many of the Order here?" Harry asked with a slight frown. "Kingsley isn't going to sit with me on the train is he?"

Hestia smiled as she came to a stop beside a pair of carriage doors. "There are a few here and there, just in case. Don't worry, once you get on the train you won't be seeing any more of us until Christmas."

Harry nodded and stepped out of the way as a pair of red headed twins ran past boisterously and practically threw themselves into the train. He looked at the doors with a mixture of dread and excitement. The train gave a loud shrill whistle, a reminder that it was time to board.

Hestia leaned down and enveloped him in a tight hug. He was surprised but hugged her back tightly, if a little awkwardly.

"You be good now. Try to avoid getting detention, study hard and Christmas will be here before you know it. Don't be afraid to write once in a while, especially if you get sorted into Ravenclaw!"

Harry was surprised to find that Hestia looked a little emotional saying goodbye. "I will, I promise," he said as he heaved his trunk up and stepped onboard. "See you at Christmas!"

The older witch smiled and waved goodbye as Harry turned and made his way down the carriage.

There were a lot of compartments already taken, filled with senior students sprawled confidently across cushioned benches or practically sitting atop one another as they crammed as many of their friends as they could into one.

It took him a little while and he passed a few students who seemed to stare at him oddly but he managed to find an empty compartment. Once inside he had to stand on the bench and haul his trunk up to the rack above the seats before remembering to take out a book for the journey and having to repeat the process.

Once settled he set the copy of Wizards and Witches Through the Ages down on the table and took to staring out at the platform, watching people saying hello to friends and goodbye to families and the way they rushed to get on to the train. He made a game of trying to spot members of the Order that he knew.

There was a tall, thin wizard that looked like a classic villain from a black and white movie wearing a top hat and looking imperiously over the platform. He'd met him once at Rookhope and despite his frosty exterior Harry found him to be a lively fellow.

Harry recognised the stern looking witch with gold grey hair who was waving goodbye to a student who looked his age and the barrel chested wizard with the plaited red beard Hagrid drank and laughed with one memorable evening months ago.

Eventually the shrill whistle sounded again and the train roared to life. They started to pull out of the station at a snail's pace and students hung out of the windows waving goodbye to their families. Harry imagined himself doing that, waving out to a pair of proudly beaming parents, maybe even a little brother or sister who'd be jealous that he was heading off to Hogwarts but he pushed those thoughts out of his head and pledged to enjoy his first journey on the Hogwarts Express.

He enjoyed watching the scenery slowly move by as they chugged out of the station, pulling very close to sleek silver muggle trains and seeing the passengers inside who didn't seem to notice the massive red steam engine travelling beside them.

Eventually, the outskirts of muggle London started to slowly blend into a mixture of smaller towns and fields and Harry started flicking through his book.

It was a page turner but Harry didn't really believe it was meant for a younger audience. The index listed the likes of Merlin, the Four Founders and other benevolent wizards throughout history but didn't shirk on the nasty side.

He was reading about the Greek wizard tyrant Phalamus and his graphically unspeakable crimes with a certain amount of disgust when his compartment door slid open and a tall dark haired student stuck his head in. When his eyes fixed on Harry they widened and he pulled his head back out quickly before shouting, "Lads, I think I've found him."

Someone shouted back at him at which point the boy returned his head. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" He asked.

At Harry's weak nod the boy grinned and shouted back, "Yeah I asked him, it's Potter!"

The older boy was quickly joined by more jostling bodies and Harry suddenly felt very much like he was in a zoo being stared at by buffoons. He shrank in on himself slightly.

"Alastair Monroe," one of the boys introduced himself as he slid through the throng and sat opposite Harry.

"Harry potter, nice to meet you," he offered lamely.

"Brian Stack," a smaller blonde haired boy greeted with a smile.

Lots of names spilled forward in the next few seconds leaving Harry with no option but to wave, smile and say, "Nice to meet you all!"

Alaistair leaned forward conspiratorially, "Word in the Prophet is you were there when the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley."

Harry started to feel uncomfortable, it was no secret that Harry was in the alley that day and a few days after the attack the Daily Prophet had run a piece entitled, "'Boy-who-lived' Target of Death Eater Carnage."

"I was getting my Hogwarts supplies and they attacked out of nowhere, I don't know a whole lot about it to be honest."

"Oh come off it, Potter. Witnesses say they saw you blast one of them when the aurors came." Stack said, excitedly. "You must be pretty handy with a wand already."

Harry shrugged noncommittally, knowing that wasn't actually what happened but unwilling to share the embarrassment of his failed attempt to stop them.

Thankfully he was saved by a stern voice coming from the hallway.

"Come on, leave the first year alone and back to your compartments," said a cross looking redheaded boy.

"Bugger off and mind your own business, Weasley," Alasitair snapped.

Weasley drew himself up and pointed to a silver badge on his chest. "This _is_ my business, Monroe and it'll be points from all of you if you don't leave the boy alone and get out of my sight sharpish."

The crowd grumbled but dispersed away from Harry's compartment. Before he left, Alaistair turned and extended his hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Don't let His Pompousness scare you off if you ever want a chat."

Harry shook his hand and the older student nodded approvingly before shooting Weasley a face and walking off.

The redhead glared after him before turning his attention back to Harry and extending his own hand. "Percy Weasley, fifth year prefect. It's part of my role this year to look out for the new students and you were looking a bit overwhelmed."

Harry shook his hand and smiled gratefully. "Thanks for that, they didn't seem all that bad, just a little much.'

"Yes well how about we find you a compartment with some other first years? My own brother is starting Hogwarts this year, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Harry felt uneasy about imposing himself on someone else and honestly, while he couldn't wait to meet people and try to make friends it was pretty uncool to meet someone on a playdate organised by someone with authority. He had no doubt Percy's brother would be fairly put out by it.

"Thanks Percy, I'll go find him in a bit, I just want to finish this chapter. What's his name?"

The prefect nodded, looking satisfied. "Ron Weasley, he looks a bit like me, tall for his age with red hair."

With that he gave Harry a nod and departed, closing the compartment door behind him.

He was relieved but reasoned Percy was probably right and after finishing the story of Phalamus he was true to his word and stowed away his book to venture out into the corridor.

There were compartments on both sides of the train yet the hallway was comfortable enough to fit three abrest and Harry figured there must be some magic at work.

He chanced looking through a few compartment windows and found most were full with older students. He travelled on and in the next carriage came across a matronly woman with a cart plastered in colours and selling all sorts of sweets and drinks.

His stomach grumbled and it seemed a long time since breakfast at Rookhope so he fished into his pocket and took out his purse before approaching the trolley.

The woman was just moving on from a compartment when she looked at him.

"Oh, hello dear. What would you like?" She asked brightly.

Occasionally Remus or various members of the Order would bring wizard sweets when they came to Rookhope and Harry had developed a love for chocolate frogs, fizzing whizbees and surprisngly (once he'd gotten over his initial disgust) cockroach clusters. He ordered a handful of each and she handed them over in a bag with his change.

Feeling pleased with himself he turned around, forgetting finding other first years and pledging to eat the entire bag while reading his book. He was so distracted that he walked headlong into another boy who clearly hadn't been paying attention to where he was going either.

"Sorry about that, wasn't watching where I was going," he said amicably.

"No problem," the boy said before pausing as he looked up. Harry saw his eyes flick to his forehead and felt a flush of embarrassment as the boy paled slightly which was unfortunate, he thought, as the boy couldn't afford to be any paler.

"You're Harry Potter!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, people keep saying that." He replied dryly.

"Sorry, I suppose that gets annoying, it's just that growing up I was always told that you should be in my year at Hogwarts but nobody really knew for sure. I'm Terry, Terry Boot," he said.

"You excited to get to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"Yeah I can't wait, it feels like I've been waiting forever. Imagine all the magic we're going to learn," he said enthusiastically.

Despite their rough start Harry felt himself grinning, knowing how Terry felt.

"I grew up with muggles, I didn't even know magic was real until last year so it's still kind of unbelievable."

"Muggles? You're the Boy-who-lived!" He exclaimed.

Harry couldn't help feeling embarrassed. "They thought I'd be safer if nobody knew where I was."

"That makes sense. If the Death Eaters ever found out where you were... I mean, just look at the Malfoys." The boy shuddered.

Harry didn't know who the Malfoys were so a moment of silence followed before Terry brightened up. "Hey, fancy joining us in our compartment for a bit? My friends would love to meet you. I mean, you're probably sitting with people but you could pop in?"

"I'm not sitting with anyone actually, I'd love to."

Together the two boys went to Harry's compartment and picked up his trunk before moving down the train. They stopped at the next carriage and when Terry entered a compartment Harry followed him in.

Inside were two kids, a boy with dark brown curly hair and glassed and a small girl with red hair who looked up with a bright smile.

"Kevin, Susan, this is Harry he's going to sit with us for the rest of the trip." Terry said and Harry didn't miss a subtle hint of smugness.

"Harry Potter?" Kevin asked excitedly, "Come in, nice to meet you!"

Harry smiled and stowed his trunk above with Terry's help before sitting down beside the curly haired boy opposite Susan and Terry.

"Thanks, nice to meet you guys." He said as he settled in.

"This is weird, my aunt used to read me your bedtime stories." Susan said, shaking her hair slightly. "I thought you'd be taller."

Harry was a little miffed at that but Susan seemed to realise what she'd just said and flushed red.

"I just meant..."

"That I'm not the dashing hero type?" Harry said, sounding hurt. Kevin and Terry were stifling their laughter as Susan went even redder.

Harry felt he'd better go easy on her. "It's okay, I don't feel anything like a hero. A friend of my parents thought it would be very funny to show me those books last year. I haven't been away for years saving children from monsters, just with relatives."

"Oh of course, I haven't believed those stories for years!"

Kevin sniggered. "She says that but I wouldn't be surprised if she has one of them in her trunk."

"I say we open it up and have a look," Terry said, thoughtfully. "For Harry's sake."

Susan produced a long slender strip of pale wood and pointed it at Terry. "I know plenty of hexes, Boot."

"I don't care, Harry would save me." Terry said confidently and they all laughed.

"Oh, we were showing off our wands earlier, what's yours, Harry?" Kevin asked.

Harry produced his wand and lay it on the table. "Eleven inches, Holly with a pheonix feather. Did you all go to Ollivander? He was a bit weird."

Susan showed hers, "Spruce and dragon heartstring. He said I have to be careful with it and not to let it get away with too much. He did sound a bit mad."

Kevin and Terry had wands of Walnut and Pheonix feather and Dogwood with unicorn hair respectively. Kevin looked particularly proud of his and claimed Ollivander was the greatest wand make ever to live.

After that little show and tell Harry brought out his bag of treats and shared them around much to everyone's delight. They laughed and told stories about growing up. Susan and Terry seemed to know each other very well while both of them knew Kevin only vaguely.

By the time the announcement came for them to change into school robes, Harry felt like he'd known them for ages. Susan excused herself and the boys got changed together. When she returned they were all dressed in the plain black robes of unsorted Hogwarts students.

It was only a short while later when the train started slowing down. The scenery outside had turned to forestry without Harry noticing and steam started to billow up by the windows. The train came to a shuddering halt accompanied by a piercing whistle and that signalled the exodus of students. The four first years gathered their things and secured their trunks before making for the exits.

"Firs' years, Firs' years over 'ere" came a familiar bellowing and Harry spotted Hagrid a ways down the platform standing almost twice the height of the tallest seventh years holding a large lantern to cast away the gathering night.

They made their way over to him while the rest of the students walked towards the opposite direction up a gently sloping path lit with clouds of fireflies.

"Hello Hagrid!" Harry said cheefully.

"Ah Harry, I was keepin' an eye out for yer as it happens. How was the train?"

"Brilliant, this is Terry, Kevin and Susan." He said, gesturing to his new friends.

"Hello to all," Hagrid beamed. Rather than a cheerful hello, the three other first years gave quiet greetings and looked quite wary.

Harry supposed he was used to Hagrid but remembered being quite intimidated the first time he'd met the groundskeeper too.

Hagrid did a quick headcount and set off down a trail through the trees where after a few minutes walking they found themselves at a wooden dock on the edge of a lake.

"Come on now, four to a boat! That's it now." Hagrid was helping a large boy clutching a toad and a curly haired girl into a boat and moved around the dock to help others who were wary of the water.

Harry and his friends chose the one nearest to them and managed to get in with no trouble. When all the first years were settle, as if on queue, the small fleet of boats took off as one and started sailing smoothly across the surface. There was no sound but excited whispering and the ripple of the lake against the hulls and the moon was almost full, giving the lake an eerie glow.

Eventually they rounded a cliff face and even the excited whispers we're silenced by a collective hushed gasp.

Before them, perched atop a small cliff was Hogwarts. The castle was enormous, so big that Harry couldn't count all of the towers and he was sure he wasn't seeing even half of them as the castle's design left it sprawled across cliff and chasm. Warm light beamed from every window and from a distance it looked as if the castle were struck with a thousand burning pinpricks. The only exception was a massive structure with huge stained glass windows that poured multi-hued light onto the lake below. As they drew closer he could make out more details. Huge gargoyles that seemed to be patrolling the rooftops and bridges that stretched from one ower to another, some made from unyielding Stone and others swaying in the breeze.

"It's brilliant," Harry said, awestruck.

"Mum described it, but not like this." Kevin said, clearly feeling the same.

Terry and Susan didn't even say anything but their eyes were filled with light and wonder.

As they drew closer the castle looked over them, at once intimidating and protective and they moored in a large boathouse. Gingerly, the crowd of first years disembarked and Hagrid led them almost in single file up a narrow twisting underground staircase in the cliff face.

At the the top was an old wooden door with Iron fittings that looked perfectly at home in a castle. Hagrid opened it and had to duck to manoever his bulk through. The first years followed and were led to a large entrance hall with metal doors that looked twenty foot tall. Of an equal height were four elegant hourglasses, the top half of each filled with a different coloured gemstone.

A rather stern looking witch with Raven black hair and robes trimmed with tartan approached them.

"The firs' years, Professor," Hagrid said.

"Thank you Hagrid, I'll take them from here."

Hagrid gave Harry a quick smile and walked off.

The old witch surveyed them carefully. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she began.

"In a few minutes time the welcoming feast will begin. Before you join the rest of the school at large you will be sorted into your respective houses. This is an extremely important moment as your house will definitely your Hogwarts career in many ways. You will sleep in your house dormitories, go to classes with your housemates, win and lose points for your house through academic merit and misbehavior. Your house will be your home within Hogwarts and the bonds of friendship you find within may last your whole life."

Harry could see that a few students felt as he did, profoundly nervous while others we're slightly more confident.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards who have changed our world. At the end of each year we award the house cup to whichever house has won the most points over the course of the year. Each of you should strive to help your house win this honour."

"Make yourselves presentable. The eyes of the school are on you." She said, casting a look around. Harry suddenly felt very aware of his appearance and wished he had a comb.

When she was satisfied Professor McGonagall turned on her heels and walked towards the doors of the great hall. Though massive, they opened before her silently. The first years entered the hall and lined behind her silently. Hundreds of faces turned to look at them as they walked in but Harry barely noticed the scrutiny, amazed as he was by the hall. It seemed vast. Candles floated through the air everywhere but gethered en masse above four long tables of students and what seemed to be actual ghosts. The rafters stretched up into empty sky and the moon shone down through the clouds at him.

For a brief moment, Harry caught himself wondering what they would do if it started to rain. Occasionally, he had to remind himself about magic.

At the end of the hall sat before the staff table was a shabby looking hat perched on a three legged stool. Without warning, the hat tore open at the brim and started singing.

It sang of the four houses and their founders, of Hogwarts and it's students. It sang of bravery, wit, loyalty and cunning and when it was finished the hall erupted in applause.

When the ovation died down Professor McGonagall stepped forward and unfurled a scroll.

"Abbot, Hannah." She intoned and a small girl with blonde pigtails walked forward nervously. She sat on the stool and pulled the hat over her head. A moment or two passed and the brim tore open to shout "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table broke out in applause and beckoned to her. She smiled and ran down to take her place at the table.

"Bones, Susan."

Harry's friend went forward excitedly and after a moment the hat again shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Susan ran down to join Hannah where a ghost seemed to be welcoming her.

Terry was next and after a moment's consideration the hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!"

Mandy Brocklehurst joined him a minute later and Millicent bulstrode went to Slytherin.

As it came closer down the list Harry started to sweat slightly, nerves getting to him.

Seamus Finnegan, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom all went to Gryffindor while Morag MacDougal and Draco Malfoy went to Slytherin. It went on until the McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry" and suddenly the whole hall seemed to turn and break out in whispers. Harry groaned inwardly a little as he walked forward. He could feel the eyes burning into him and he dropped the hat over his head as quickly as he could.

There was a moment's silence and then there was a voice in his head.

"Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, talent, intelligent to be sure and a certain thirst to prove yourself. Oh you're a tough one Mr. Potter. So where should I put you?"

He'd already made friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and he knew his parents had been in Gryffindor so he thought he really wouldn't mind them.

"Ah yes, you've already made friends that have gone elsewhere. The first one is always easiest, more of a blank slate. No, I think you'll be one that will forge your own path and the best place for that is SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared the last word to the hall and the table to Harry's left burst into applause. He quickly removed the hat and made his way to his new house table slightly relieved that it was over.

On his way there he caught Terry's eye who gave him a thumbs up and he grinned back. He caught sight of Alaistair Monroe beckoning him over and he sat down to a few claps on the back and some handshakes from older students who had gotten up just to welcome him. He dimly registered that he might have gotten the most enthusiastic reception yet.

The last to be sorted was "Zabini, Blaise" and he joined Harry in Slytherin, sitting a few spaces down from him.

The hall quieted slightly and Harry looked up the staff table to see the Headmaster standing with arms outstretched. It was strange, Harry had met the man several times and felt he was on very good terms with him but he hadn't noticed the old wizard at all before then.

"Welcome, welcome to Hogwarts." He spoke. Silence covered the great hall like a blanket.

"Before we feast I should like us to observe a few moments silence for a young girl who was to sit with us all tonight but never got the chance," he said gravely.

"Lisa Turpin was due to be sorted tonight but was killed in the senseless attack on Diagon Alley. She could have been the most steadfast Gryffindor, the most intelligent Ravenclaw, the most dilligent Hufflepuff or the greatest Slytherin. Tonight, we should all feel her loss equally. To Lisa!" He finished, raising his goblet. The whole hall raised their cups and were silent for a moment.

"And now, we feast!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. In front of him the bare table was suddenly groa in under the weight of food. Beef, lamb, turkey, chicken and all sorts of other dishes were surrounded by every side dish imaginable and dozens of golden pitchers filled with drinks. The feast looked sumptuous but Harry found himself unable to enjoy even the sight of it knowing that he was likely the reason Lisa Turpin wasn't enjoying her own meal.

The image of Flourish and Blott's exploding in flame flashed through his head and suddenly all of the food smelled burnt and the clanking of tablewear was replaced with terrified screams. His stomach flipped and he resigned himself to not eating dinner.

Instead he looked up at the staff table. The Headmaster was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall while Hagrid was happily gorging himself on a leg of something that looked a lot larger than chicken.

One of the teachers seemed to be trying to engage another in conversation but the black robed professor with long limp hair was steadfastly ignoring him.

Nobody bothered him with smalltalk and he was quietly relieved for it. He was sure he'd get to know his housemates better later on but he knew he wouldn't be very charming in the mood he was in.

Time wore on and the feast shifted from dinner to desert and the rumble of talking rose to a higher level of laughter and conversation.

Eventually the tables cleared themselves and the students looked to the head table expectantly.

"A few more words before we all head off to bed," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying across the hall easily. "First year students should know that the Forbidden forest is exactly that. Forbidden. The older students may take that as a reminder.

Quidditch trials will be open to students of second year and above on the third week of term.

The first Hogsmaede weekend will be announced the week preceding the visit so make sure you have your permission slips signed by oh, let's say, November.

Finally, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is expressly out of bounds this year to all those who do not wish to die an extremely painful death."

A weak, nervous laughter filled the hall but soon died when the Headmaster didn't smile.

"And with that," he clapped his hands together, "Off to bed with you all!"

The hall was filled with the sound of benches scraping against the flagstones and students started filling out of the hall.

A tall redheaded student with a silver and green prefects badge walked down the aisle between the tables. "First years please gather around."

Harry made his way towards him and the other first year Slytherins converged. There were quite a few of them. Some like Bulstrode and Zabini he recognised from the sorting ceremony and others from ascending to the entrance hall from the boathouse like the boy with the white blonde hair.

Once he had done a quick headcount the prefect nodded. "This way."

They followed as a group, Harry stepping into stride with the rest of them. As they left the great hall he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned halfstep to see a boy with curly black hair.

"Hello, I'm Theodore."

"Hi, I'm Harry,"

Theodore rolled his eyes, "Well obviously, everyone knows Harry Potter."

Harry bristled slightly, "Actually I don't know all that many people."

"Doesn't matter. People know you," he said slowly as if explaining it to a child.

"Good for them." Harry was really starting to get annoyed at the other boy now.

"You're being really smooth, Theodore," said a girl with long blonde hair who was just behind them.

"Shut up Daphne, I'm just trying to get to know him." He snapped.

"Unfortunately Theodore is terrible at making friends," came a voice from his left. It was the pale blonde haired boy Harry had seen earlier.

"Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself extending his hand as they walked.

Harry nodded and shook his hand.

"Draco, you've barely talked to anyone in years how would you know about making friends?" Nott said in disbelief.

"He's doing better than you," Daphne sang mockingly from behind them.

Theodore huffed and Harry had to stifle a smile. They continued following the prefect through dark corridors and Harry noticed they were descending slowly and then rapidly. The halls started to darken and in several places there was no light at all as the gaps between the wall sconces grew.

The dungeons seemed to be an endless dark maze but after countless twists and turns they stopped at a dead end.

Their guide turned to them. "This is the entrance to Slytherin dungeon. The password is 'Sanguine.'"

As he spoke a stone door suddenly appeared in the wall and slid open. He marched through and the first years followed him through a short passage. At the end was a very long sunken room. They descended the steps down to it and marvelled. The room sank in segments with four distinct levels each with a large area of floorspace scattered with tables and leather couches in green that was so dark it bordered on black. In the centre of the room at the lowest level were four of these couches, larger than any of the others facing each other with a circular table between them.

Bright green spheres hung in the air lighting the room in a bright but slightly eerie glow and there were several huge windows that appeared to be underwater. Harry thought he saw the shadow of something huge and monstrous move in the water.

The common room was filled with students who quieted as they entered. Their guide stopped and turned to them.

"Welcome, Slytherins." He said loudly and most of the common room answered, repeating the welcome.

"My name is Simund Macquarrie. I'm a sixth year prefect. The boys' dormitory is to the left of the common room at the lowest level, the girls dormitory the same on the right. For the first week either myself or another prefect will escort you to and from the common room. After that you'll be on your own so learn fast and if in doubt, head up. Slytherin House has a long and proud history. We currently hold the house cup. Don't be stupid and embarrass the house and don't lose us points."

Harry and the first years all nodded determinedly.

"Well?" Simund asked, "Didn't you hear the Headmaster? Off to bed."

Theodore started to say something in protest but a sharp glare shut him up and he turned to the descending staircase along with the rest of them.

When the boys reached their dorm they spread out and each found their beds thanks to their respective trunks left neatly at the foot of their four posters.

They exchanged names and handshakes as they changed for bed. Vincent Crabbe was a large, awkward looking boy without much to say, Blaise Zabini was similarly quiet but he seemed more enthusiastic than Vincent at least. Draco Malfoy espoused how excited he was to finally be at Hogwarts and how he was going to personally ensure Slytherin won the house cup again. Theodore seemed put out by Draco's enthusiasm but agreed that he was excited for classes to start.

For his part, Harry tried to avoid talking too much, half afraid he'd say something stupid. He got the feeling that they were all from magical families.

Eventually tiredness overcame them and they each retired to their bed. Harry drifted off to sleep with his wand under his pillow on a wave of excitement at finally learning magic.


	4. Chapter Three

Again, a spaced out update but I write like hell when I get the time. Thanks to all at DLP who helped out, especially Chaosguy and Roabuntu. Feel free to leave a review and if you have any specific questions I'll do my best to respond.

Chapter Three

Harry rose the next morning, awakened by the stream of soft light creeping through his curtains. He sat up against his headboard and stretched, the dormitory was mostly silent save for a few grunting snores. He poked his head out of the curtains and looked up at the large bronze clock on the wall. The serpentine hands pointed to just after half past six and he was sorely tempted to lie back down but the fear of sleeping in and his excitement led him to crawl over to his trunk and fish out his transfiguration book.

Fifteen minutes later and having read the same paragraph five times, he gave it up as a bad job. The sock he had been attempting to turn fluffy remained stubbornly thin even though he was sure his wand movement and incantation were correct.

He threw on his robes and crept softly out of the dorm only to be stopped by a tired voice.

"It's an hour and a half to breakfast, Potter."

Harry turned and saw Theodore's bleary eyes peeking out from behind the bed curtains.

"It's the first day, I'm just excited," he said, defensively.

Theodore shook his head and pulled the curtain back clearly not enthused by Harry's attitude so he carried on up the steps to the common room. At first glance it was deserted and with the lights being dimmed as well as the fire reduced to embers the space was imbued with an otherworldly green hue.

"It's a little grim, isn't it?" Came a voice from behind him.

Harry turned to see Draco sitting on a chair behind him cradling a book in his lap.

"I suppose, it feels really magical though. It's like something from a storybook." He replied.

"I suppose, like something from The Mugwump's tower," Draco said.

"Or the wizard of Oz."

"Haven't read that one."

A less than comfortable silence followed before Harry ventured. "What has you up so early? I thought I was the only one."

"I couldn't sleep and what else was their to do but lie around."

Harry brightened at this. "Exactly, we're in a castle to learn magic and they're all snoring like my cousin. Want to try to find our way back upstairs?"

"Okay," Draco said, getting up and grabbing his book. "They might have breakfast ready by the time we get up there. I heard the have their common room on the ground floor in case they get lost."

"We could get lost pretty easily," he pointed out.

"Yes but they're Hufflepuffs." Draco replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Come on, let's get our bags now just in case."

They retrieved their bags, careful not to wake their dorm mates and ventured into the draughty corridors. In the end it seemed as if they couldn't get lost if they tried. Several obviously dead ends mysteriously opened up as they approached, ushering them into a commonly used route. Harry began to wonder if the castle was herding them in the right direction when they emerged into the entrance hall.

When they entered the Great Hall they found it less deserted than the rest of the castle. There were a smattering of students, mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs while the staff table held Hagrid, who offered Harry a cheery wave, alongside Professors McGonagall a cheerful looking witch in bright green and yellow robes.

They took seats at the Slytherin table and Draco immediately pulled out his book and tapped his wand on the table causing it to wobble violently as a full spread of breakfast popped into existence in front of him. Harry copied him and was soon treated to sausages, eggs, toast, cereals and all manner of breakfast food to choose from.

Draco had taken to reading his book in silence and Harry was happy to do likewise surreptitiously casting the transfiguration spell at his sock under the table. It constricted violemtly after the dozenth attempt and yelped as he bumped his knee off the table. Broken out of his trance he looked around to see the hall had filled up quite a bit. He saw Daphne and Theodore approach and waved them over, the latter looking like he'd been dragged out of bed.

"Morning," he said as they sat down.

"Good morning," Daphne replied as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and grabbed some toast.

Theodore said nothing but lay his head on his arms only for the blonde witch to hit him on the head with a scone. "Eat something misery guts. Your mother made me promise I'd make you eat breakfast."

In response he simply picked up the scone and took a small bite before lying back down on his arms.

"What's up with him?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Theo's a pampered prince whose mother never made him get up before the afternoon," Daphne said.

"This is a stupid time of the day to eat let alone be awake. What's wrong with starting and ending the day later?" Came a muffled retort.

It was a notion Harry couldn't imagine, having gotten up bright and early as long as he could remember but there was a small part of him that suddenly envied Theodore's laziness.

Harry's musings were cut short when a thick piece of parchment landed beside him. He looked up to see a tall student with lank blonde hair and a pinched face, prefect badge shining on his chest.

"Your timetables," he said, handing them out to the students around Harry before moving along down the table.

They had Transfiguration first, followed by Potions and then lunch.

Harry thought about his morning's failed attempts at transfiguration and all of a sudden felt very anxious indeed.

Draco, he noticed, had brightened considerably on the news.

"Big fan of transfiguration?" Harry asked.

The other boy looked up in confusion. "What? Well yes it's a useful branch of magic but I didn't think we'd be lucky enough to get potions on the first day."

Potions was one of the subjects Harry had paid least attention to in his months at Rookhope. It just seemed less magical and as a result he'd put it largely to the back of his mind however Draco's excitement suggested there was more to the subject than following a recipe with strange ingredients.

They talked together animatedly as they gathered their things and headed off to the first lesson. Daphne was of the opinion that as first years they would begin by transfiguring like to like and as such they would begin by transfiguring Goyle into a boulder.

Pansy and Blaise had caught up to them at this point and Blaise suggested swap fungal pods would be more fitting. Harry felt a pang of guilt for making fun of the two boys but wasn't willing to play the odd one out.

Eventually they found the transfiguration classroom and filed inside to find the Ravenclaws had all made it first. He spotted Kevin and Terry at the edge of the group, the former waving and made his way over to them.

"Hello, how was your first night in Ravenclaw?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the desk beside them.

"Great, you wouldn't believe how cool the common room is," Kevin grinned. "How's Slytherin?"

"I heard it's really creepy down in the dungeons." Terry added.

"The dungeons aren't the nicest but the common room is great and the prefects are pretty nice so far. There's a big window ou- ouch!" Harry yelped, turning to Pansy who'd just hit him with her transfiguration book.

"Do you want to tell them the password too, Potter?" She asked, sarcasm oozing around her words.

"Only if they promise to use it to kidnap you," He replied, rubbing his arm.

Pansy looked like she was about to reply but she was distracted by the appearance of a large tabby cat slinking it's way through her legs.

"Oh hello there," she said dropping down to her hunkers and stroking it's fur. "You're much nicer than smelly boys."

Harry would have been offended had the cat not morphed in a swirl of colour and grown into the stern form of Professor McGonagall. Gasps echoed around the room and Pansy jumped back with a scream falling flat on her behind.

"Let this be a lesson not to pet every random stray you see, Miss Parkinson." She said primly, walking to the front of the room. "Everyone take their seats and open your books to chapter one."

The scrapes of chairs on stone echoed as everyone took their seats and as Kevin and Terry were already sat together he took the vacant seat beside Draco.

They spent the first hour of the lesson listening to McGonagall explain the art of Transfiguration. It was both less and more than simply "changing one thing into another," while it certainly was that she also hammered home the point that there were far more complex forces at work. Looking around, Harry saw that many of his classmates faces looked intimidated including some of the supposedly studious Ravenclaws.

When the time came for an attempt at the practical side of things the professor handed out matchsticks and instructed them to turn them into needles.

"This is your first attempt at transfiguration and as such I don't expect any of you to complete your task today but with practice and proper study you should all have bright new needles by next week." McGonagall said, casting her eyes across the room. "You may begin." She said, slightly impatient.

The class jolted into action and there was soon a low murmur of incantations and sounds of frustration permeating every corner of the room.

"Mutare," came an almost whisper beside him. Unlike what Harry had seen of his classmates so far Draco's matchstick took on a definite silver hue and the end tapered slightly.

Harry cast the spell for himself, visualizing the needle in front of him instead. Nothing happened, not even a wobble. He repeated the spell over and over again and repeatedly failed to get even the meagrest of results while beside him Draco had managed to form almost a perfect needle, albeit with the end still a small red bump.

"You're really good at this," Harry said enviously.

"Not good enough," came the frustrated reply. He sat back in his chair almost petulantly before looking at Harry's own progress. "You haven't done anything to yours."

"Well spotted," he replied, a touch tetchily.

"I thought the famous Harry Potter would be great at magic but you're almost like a muggle." There was no malice in Draco's voice, he could have been talking about a particularly strange looking cockroach but it stung all the same.

"Cheers Draco." he said sourly, "I didn't get to grow up with magic like you."

At this Draco looked genuinely perplexed, like the cockroach had started spouting German poetry at him.

"What do you-" he started but was interrupted by the looking shadow of Professor McGonagall.

"Very well done, Mr. Malfoy. I daresay you've made the most progress with this so far. Five points to Slytherin," She announced before picking up his mostly needle and walking over to pick up Terry's.

She held both up before the class. "You see here the best two examples the class has managed so far. Mr. Boot's is a very well done first effort. The matchstick remains it's shape and overall coarseness yes but you'll find it's entirely metallic."

She then raised up Draco's. "This however is the level I expect you to all be at next week. It's taken on not only the composition but the shape is largely correct too. It's almost perfect."

Draco coloured slightly with the praise while Terry looked a little miffed at being used as an example of second best. For his own part Harry quickly stashed his matchstick into his Transfiguration book and closed it over as they were dismissed.

After they left the classroom Harry waved goodbye to Terry and Kevin who were off to Charms and took the stairs downwards towards potions. Draco had packed up and left faster than anyone so Harry walked himself until blonde hair flashed and Daphne appeared beside him matching his stride.

"How did you do with that?" She asked.

Harry grimaced. "Not very well. How about you?"

She produced what would be a perfect seeing needle had it not been mostly made of phosphorus.

"McGonagall said I have excellent fine control but I'm struggling with 'asserting my will.' How can magic that transforms things into anything you want be so utterly dull?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"I think it's interesting, I just don't think I'm very good at it." He said ruefully.

"Padma says Kevin told her you were raised by muggles, is it true? That could be why." She had a curious look on her face that wasn't dissimilar from Draco's earlier and Harry found he was beginning to get annoyed at that look.

"Yes, is that such a big deal?" He snapped.

"It's just really strange. You're the Boy-Who-Lived and they let muggles raise you while the Death Eaters are still around?"

Harry just shrugged, "They're the only family I had. I don't live with them anymore anyway, Death Eaters set my last school on fire so Professor Dumbledore came and took me away."

"You think if we get lots of homework they'll try that here?" She mused.

Harry looked at her, incredulous.

"I'm joking,"

"They're not funny, Daphne. They're terrifying."

"You're the heroic Harry Potter. Once you figure out how to transfigure a matchstick into a sword they'll be no match for you," she grinned.

"I'd settle for a needle for now." He said drily.

They reached the entrance hall and turned towards the dungeons.

"What was it like, living with muggles?" She asked suddenly.

"They weren't very nice. My cousin Dudley is as big as a whale and nowhere near as smart."

Daphne wrinkled her nose, "My father says that they all smell like pigs because they can't clean themselves properly."

The image of two large and one horribly underfed pigs bounding around Privet Drive appeared in Harry's mind and before he couldn't help himself from laughing.

"Thinking about Dudley's bedroom your father might be right," he smiled causing Daphne to nod as if vindicated.

Their descent into the dungeons ended in a long bleak corridor with several iron doors on either side. At the terminus a great oak door with iron fittings lay open and when they entered they saw that they had perhaps dawdled as most of the first year Gryffindors and Slytherin were already present.

"Did you see anyone pass us?" He asked quietly as the mood in the large chamber was subdued.

"No and I know for a fact we left before Pansy and Theo." She said slowly.

Unlike the communal gathering before Transfiguration where people talked freely everyone was sat face forward and the houses were divided by a large central aisle. Harry and Daphne took a pair of seats near the back and took out their potions texts in silence.

At exactly eleven thirty the large door shut off its own accord with a large bang and the shadowy figure of Professor Snape rose from his chair and stood before the class.

He was an extremely thin man with a chalk white face and long limp hair framing a hooked nose. When he paced side to side he did so with his back straight and his head bowed slightly. Harry thought he looked quite like Count Dracula except quite a bit more menacing.

"I don't expect many of you to appreciate the inherent beauty of potion making. Very few leave these halls with a true understanding of the art so enamoured are they with the flashier magics," he began. Complete silence permeated the room. "I can teach you to-" he was interrupted by the classroom door swinging open and two boys almost falling in the room.

The two boys felt the pressure of dozens of eyes on them and almost threw themselves into the nearest seats with mumbled apologies. It wasn't enough to spare them from Snape's wrath.

The potions master glided down the aisle and came to a stop in front of the two Gryffindors. A small dark skinned boy with short cut hair and a lanky redhead, both stared resolutely ahead as if acting normal would prompt Snape to leave them alone.

"Your name, boy?" Snape asked quietly.

"Dean Thomas, Sir."

"Ron W-" the second boy started but Snape cut him off. "Weasley, yes. As if it might have been a mystery." Snape drawled. "I assume you lost your way here, did you forgot your potions texts."

"Professor we just took a wrong turn," Weasley protested.

"I have no doubt, was it boarding the train to Hogwarts perhaps?" Snape said softly. Without warning he strode to the front of the room. "If any of you are ever late to my class again it's one week of detention with me. I can use the time to bludgeon some respect for my class into your skulls."

Having just made it into the class himself Harry felt some degree of sympathy for the two boys who looked visibly shaken.

The next ten minutes were something of a Q&A with some particularly difficult questions aimed at Weasley and Thomas who by the end were labelled as 'incompetent dunderheads.' When their interrogation was over Snape summoned a large blackboard with the recipe for a hiccoughing potion and set them to work.

Over an hour later Harry's cauldron was emitting a light blue mist. The recipe on the board and his book both stated that the final elixir should be a deep blue and Daphne's was much closer to that than his but he bottled a sample anyway.

When Snape made his way to their workbench he nodded in approval at Daphne's potion before picking up Harry's and running a close eye over it.

"This might relieve some minor indigestion but it won't cure you of the hiccoughs." He said placing the vial back and scratching on his piece of parchment.

Harry gathered his equipment and stashed it in his assigned cupboard leaving the classroom disappointed for the second time that morning.

Lunch was a rowdy affair with everyone discussing the morning's classes, Harry didn't feel much like joining in but he laughed along with them about Pansy getting scolded by McGonagall and the terrified Gryffindor boys in potions.

Charms was first thing after lunch, again with Ravenclaw and Harry wasn't feeling totally optimistic. He knew he hadn't performed terribly in either of his classes so far it was just that he happened to be sitting beside two people who had been far better than him.

The charms corridor on the third floor was rather inconveniently located near the rear of the castle and quite a walk around the wings of the building. The first year Slytherins walked together and talked boisterously about the upcoming lesson but Harry hung back, slightly resentful of their enthusiasm.

The classroom itself was the strangest room Harry had seen in the castle so far. Where the Transfiguration classroom was almost austere and the potions laboratory was bringing with all manner of ingredients and equipment strictly ordered, the Charms room help haphazard towers of books and parchment leaning over at impossible angles. Silver and gold spheres ranging in size from golf ball to beach ball danced lazily across the ceiling in a pattern Harry couldn't discern with Ruby coloured motes of light occasionally hopped from one to another.

At the far end of the long narrow room twin staircases curled up and inwards to a skeletal think marble podium and atop that sat Professor Flitwick, all of three foot tall with a beard every bit as wizardly as the Headmaster's.

"Good afternoon first years!" He exclaimed from his perch as they filed into the room. "Come now take your seats. Doesn't matter where as long as you can see and hear!"

They took their seats and Harry found himself sat next to Blaise who was still entranced by the orbs floating high above them.

"Now, who can tell me the fundimental difference between Charms and let's say, Transfiguration?" Flitwick asked.

A flurry of hands shot up and he clapped his hands in excitement. "Excellent, excellent. So most of you clearly have an idea, how about you?" He asked, looking down at Harry who hadn't volunteered.

"Transfiguration changes an object from one thing to another. Charmswork affects the object and can give or take away properties." He replied, thankful both for his own reading and the chance to talk to Hestia about magic during his final weeks at Rookhope.

"Yes that's it exactly. I could talk for hours about the exact differences between the schools of magic but that sums it up quite nicely. In fact, you will find that many schools of magic fall into the scope of Charms. Defense against the dark arts for example employs a variety of protective enchantments and Professor Snape and I have had many an animated discussion about why Potions are essentially Charmswork."

Privately, Harry thought that 'animated' might have been putting it very mildly.

"For your first, most basic lesson in this class you will be adding an effect," Flitwick continued while motioning with his wand. A small chest to his left opened and a flurry of feathers shot out, each one drifting down in front of a student. "The levitation charm works as the name suggests, it makes an object levitate. Now, who could hazard a guess as to why we start off with a feather?"

Almost every hand in the class rose and Flitwick let out a little chuckle. "Okay then, Ms. Patil," he chose.

"Because it's light," she said simply.

"Correct, yet also wrong. Anybody else?"

This time nobody rose their hand but Harry suspected he knew the answer.

"Nobody? Not entirely unexpected. We use-" he began but stopped suddenly. "Yes Mr. Potter?"

He could feel the eyes of the class on him and his neck began to heat up.

"With the levitation charm the weight of the object doesn't matter. It's just easier for us to believe we can make a feather float than if we used rocks."

"Exactly right! Two points to Slytherin. With mastery of the levitation charm you could float a castle, a feat that has been successfully performed no less than four times over the ages. Some people believe that Ortissimo the hermit is still floating around the sky in his invisible fortress enjoying permanent peace and quiet," he chuckled.

The next half hour was split between practicing wand movements and pronunciation and when it was time to cast the charm Harry gave a quick swish and a flick. He was surprised when the feather floated straight upwards, higher and higher until it sat among the dancing orbs. He found it just as easy to command the feather to be less buoyant and brought it back down in front of him.

"Excellent work Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said, floating himself down from his large podium and approaching Harry's desk. "Five well deserved points. Can you repeat the spell?"

Harry reddened slightly at the praise but he cast the charm again and floated the feather with a good deal more control than his first attempt.

The Charms professor talked about his precision of movement and his fine control and Harry, while still feeling somewhat embarrassed began to enjoy the praise. It was a definite relief after a morning where he hadn't exactly excelled to manage the spell, never mind being the first to do so. When the time came for them to pack up and depart Harry was feeling decidedly more cheery.

History of Magic was the first class they shared with Hufflepuff and it was more than enough to suck the cheer right out of him. Professor Binns was an actual ghost, a fact that nobody had bothered to share with them before the class and Harry was amazed at how the spirit could lull a whole class of hungry kids to near sleep.

The history of a magical world he never knew existed, which his family had always been a part of boiled down to two hours of discussion on a millennial old treaty between Goblins and Ogres. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the topic would have been quite a bit more interesting if it had been taught by a member of the living and resolved to do some of his own study on the topic.

The Slytherins and Hufflepuff fled as soon as the class was over and jointly headed to the Great Hall, bemoaning seven years of History of Magic.

"I mean, it's not like we can hope he'll retire or anything. We're stuck with him," Theodore groaned.

"Fletchly told me there's a curse on the Defense against the dark arts job, think we could curse the History job?" Harry pondered.

"The Boy-Who-Lived talking about casting a curse, I can't believe it," Susan Bones said with a horrified expression.

"They do say never meet your heroes," Harry replied.

"Especially if you need sewing equipment transfigured."

Harry shoved Theodore lightly and the curly haired boy stumbled before shooting Harry a look of pity, "That was very muggle of you."

Daphne, Susan and Blaise all grinned and Harry could only grumble.

The Great Hall was heaving with people at dinner time but there was a tension in the air when they walked in. Harry noticed several teachers were missing from the staff table and the ones who were present we're deep in conversation. They bade goodbye to the Hufflepuff and joined the Slytherin table.

"What's going on?" He heard Draco ask as he followed them in a few moments later.

"Don't know, we only just got here ahead of you," Harry said before spotting Alaistair Monroe walking up the floor.

"Hey Alastair, has something happened?" He asked as the older student walked by.

"Hello Harry. There's been some news trickling in on the wireless, apparently Death Eaters have attacked Paris."

There were gasps of shock around him but Harry remained quiet, a cold spike of fear lodging itself in his gut.

Monroe looked grave as he continued. "We don't know much but it sounds as if the French were slow in responding and a lot of people are hurt. People are already calling for Minister Crouch's head after Diagon Alley, no doubt he'll cop the blame for this too."

Harry zoned out, transported back to the day Remus was killed. The panic flooded him again and he thought he could smell Flourish and Blotts burning.

"Thanks Alaistair," he said, turn in back to a dinner he no longer felt like eating.

"What would the Death Eaters want to attack Paris for? It's so beautiful," Daphne said, downcast.

Harry was surprised to see that Draco looked more shaken than even he felt. The blonde boy's fists were clenched and he looked absolutely furious.

"Don't let it get to you, Draco, they'll definitely be caught soon now they have the French after them too," Theodore said.

"Shut up, Nott." Draco snapped.

"You shut up, I was only trying to be nice," Nott replied irritability.

"Both of you shut up," Daphne said tiredly.

The boys glared at each other before Draco grabbed a bread roll and got up, stalking away from the table.

"That was weird," Harry stated.

His classmates shared a look and Harry thought it looked quite like they were having a heated debate in silence. Eventually Daphne turned to him.

"A few years after you got rid of You-Know-Who the Death Eaters that hadn't been caught came back for the first time. They killed Draco's dad and set his house on fire." She said quietly.

"And these are the same people that attacked Paris and Diagon Alley," Harry finished, finally understanding Draco's reaction.

"Draco was really young when it happened so he didn't know much about it but a few years ago he stopped calling over to Montague's or Theo's and now he just tries to avoid people." Daphne continued.

Harry felt a large well of pity for his housemate. He had entered the wizarding world with a Target on his back and strange as it was, he'd gotten used to it. Killing him wasn't their only goal and that actually made him feel better, at least until the guilt of thinking those thoughts caught up to him a moment later.

Harry pinched a slice of toast from the table and got up.

"I'll see you guys after," he said before walking after Draco.

It wasn't long until he caught up with his classmate. Harry had guessed he'd go back to the common room but as he entered the dungeons the stone slabbed corridors seemed to lead him in a different direction. Eventually he ended up near a small row of abandoned rooms, one of which had the door ajar.

Inside, Draco was sat on a dusty old wingback chair.

"What do you want, Potter?" He asked, staring at him.

"Well I was going back to the common room but I ended up here," Harry lied, taking a bite of toast.

"Then go away, you'll end up there eventually."

"Or you could stop being a prat and help me?"

"Why would I help you?" Draco asked.

"Because it would be the nice thing to do?"

Draco scoffed, "If you can't find your way to the common room maybe you shouldn't be in Slytherin."

Harry was starting to get annoyed at the boy's attitude and his own tempter flared. "I don't know why I bother coming after you, sit here and sulk on your own." Harry turned and left the dusty old room behind, the corridor suddenly appearing to lead to more familiar territory. He was soon back in the common room and settled down at a table beside the large windows.

Draco had acted like a brat but Harry knew he was upset. He couldn't pretend the news of the Paris attack hadn't shaken him too. Whatever they were up to it wasn't good.

In the soft eerie light of the lake, Harry took one of the matchsticks out of his pocket and started attempting to transfigure it.

Hours later the hearths had died and Harry was slumped asleep on the armchair, a shiny bright needle in front of him.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:** Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. Always good to get feedback. Speaking of that, this chapter couldn't have been posted without the good work of **Skykes** over on **DLP**.

 **Chapter Four**

Over a week later Harry was sitting in the Great Hall enjoying a particularly fine sausage and egg breakfast when the post owls descended. More and more students had signed up to have the Prophet delivered and Harry found it had been a decent investment. As well as keeping him informed on any news about the Death Eaters,

it had been a valuable source of information about the wizarding world in general. He'd found that conversations would often break out around him among those who had grown up in magical families leaving him utterly clueless. With the prophet he could at least have some input in those debates.

The haggard looking screech owl hovered over the table a few seats up from him and waited patiently for Cadwin Urquhart to take his paper and deposit his knut before flying down the table to Harry who repeated the process. Over a dozen of the large raptors circled the tables delivering their stacks of newspapers while many more owls delivered letters and packages. It was a scene that was repeated every morning but it had lost none of its fascination for Harry who always idly wondered why the place nobody ever got splattered with droppings.

"Anything interesting?" Theo asked leaning over from beside him. Theodore had stubbornly refused to order a subscription and instead quizzed Harry for information every morning. Daphne had also refused, reasoning that her mother sent her almost daily letters with news and gossip in them anyway.

"More of President Dorval blaming the Minister for not catching them, nothing much new, wait," Harry said as he turned the page. "This is new." He stated.

 _Paris attack a diversion?_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _The busiest magical shopping district of a nation, where peaceful witches and wizards went about enjoying their day, selling their wares or buying home supplies. People enjoying lunch or catching up with old friends as summer waned around them._

 _There are many obvious similarities between the attacks on Diagon Alley and Rue Claudel. Seventeen Wizards and fourteen witches perished in the course of these heinous crimes, including three French Aurors. President Dorval is out for blood, Minister Crouch is secretly speeding up Auror training in an attempt to have more hands on deck to catch those responsible and the I.C.W holds weightless debates while their Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore has been absent._

 _At such a critical time of political upheaval, why would Albus Dumbledore be absent and unavailable for comment?_

 _One of my ever reliable sources has revealed to me that Dumbledore was in fact present during the attack on Rue Claudel, a mere half mile away, defending the true target of the attack. The home of Nicholas Flamel._

 _For anyone not familiar with Flamel, he is regarded as one of the most brilliant minds in history, creator of the fabled Philosopher's stone and one of Dumbledore's oldest friends._

 _If the true attack was against Flamel and the criminals responsible slaughtered innocents merely as a diversion, this journalist has to wonder, was there a secondary motive behind the attack on Diagon Alley?_

 _It seems to me that the Headmaster of Hogwarts knows more than he's willing to share and at this stage he should at least be called to explain his actions to the Wizengamot._

"No chance Dumbledore was really there. He would have caught them all and be receiving another Order of Merlin by now." Theo said.

"Have either of you seen him lately?" Daphne asked with a raised eyebrow, gesturing towards the staff table. The Headmaster's chair was absent, as it had been for most meals since the attack in Paris.

"He's probably busy, he was here at breakfast yesterday." Theo replied.

Privately, Harry wasn't so sure. He knew from his stay at Rookhope that the Order were actively trying to find the Death Eaters and it made a certain amount of sense that if there was a possibility of Dumbledore trying to stop them he would. It felt like truth to Harry but he resolved to write to Hestia and ask her if she knew. He hadn't sent her a letter so far, as he had promised before departing for Hogwarts.

"The Headmaster took you away from your relatives, maybe you could ask him?" Theo asked suddenly.

"Don't be such an idiot, Theo. That doesn't mean he would share his secrets with a first year." Daphne said.

It had never been a secret, really, but the news that Harry Potter had grown up in the muggle world spread like wildfire through Hogwarts. People who had been cordial and friendly to him on his first few days were now aloof and Harry felt that he was being treated as an oddity. A half-blood son of a Pure-blood family with no knowledge of their customs or culture. The previous night Pansy had expressed her excitement for the Samhain feast and crowed at Harry's ignorance of the subject. When it was explained to him and he'd asked why she didn't just say Halloween, Blaise looked at him with something bordering on revulsion.

"She's right, Theo," Harry said, shutting down Theo's reply. "I only talked with him a bit."

He shrugged and went back to his breakfast while Harry folded away the paper into his bag. He caught Daphne looking at him and he knew she wanted to talk about something but he did his best to ignore her. They could talk later.

Transfiguration that day was something of a free period for Harry. After finally perfecting the matchstick transfiguration the concept seemed to come a little easier to him. They had moved on to changing a matchstick into a broomstick that lesson and Harry found he was able to complete the Transfiguration in little under half an hour, winning Slytherin ten points in the process. His classmates found it harder to varying degrees from which he took quite a bit of guilt laden satisfaction. Terry and Draco had progressed the furthest with both achieving broomsticks albeit on a much smaller scale. Terry's wasn't all that much bigger than the actual matchstick while Draco's was approaching scale but kept reverting to a broom sized match gradually over a few seconds, the wood creaking all the while like a grotesque scream.

Once Harry had perfected the Transfiguration of the needle he could repeat the process flawlessly and after hours of repeated attempts he had figured out where he had been going wrong. He wasn't actually taking into account the materials involved and how their contrasting natures would protest at the process.

Wood to wood had been a far easier task, all things considered. It was used to growing and as such the change in size required far less force of will to affect the change.

His Charms lessons had gone similarly well and he breezed through the essays, spending more and more time practicing different charms from his textbook, albeit with some help from Hestia's notebook in places.

Defence against the Dark Arts he'd found a strange class. Professor Quirrell was previously the Muggle Studies teacher but had returned after a sabbatical in South America to take the Defence post. He was a quiet and unassuming as a teacher and they were quickly falling into a pattern of theory one lesson, practice for homework and practical the following lesson. The first spell they had attempted simply allowed them to emit sparks from their wands in various hues. Everyone mastered it easily, even Neville Longbottom who had already built up a reputation for being quite inept.

Defence was their last class before lunch and it was time for another practical lesson. When they filed into the classroom Quirrel stood leaned against his desk awaiting them to arrange themselves in a loose semi-circle as they had been instructed before. He had completely divested the room of its tables and chairs and instead the room was filled with dummies, all wearing brightly coloured robes with twisted masks.

"The knockback Jinx," Quirrell exclaimed. "We've studied it intricately, you all know the wand movements, the incantations, how and when it is appropriate to use. Now it's time to perform the spell itself to the best of your abilities."

The dummies swarmed around the room and students peeled off from the semi-circle to engage with them. When everyone was paired up with a dummy Quirrell clapped his hands and shouted, "Begin!"

Cries of "Flipendo!" echoed through the hall-like space and short sharp flashes of light ricocheted around the room.

Harry faced his own dummy, animated to look like it was goading him and sank into the wand movements, casting the incantation softly. Light sprang from his wand easily and knocked the dummy back several yards.

Several students were struggling to budge the dummies at all but most were doing quite well, Draco and Daphne in particular were knocking their dummies back feet at a time and Ron Weasley would move his inches only to occasionally blast the thing back as far as anyone. Everyone though, seemed to be enjoying the lesson. Things were destined to go wrong.

One of the times Weasley got frustrated and launched his dummy it careened across the room only to collide with Theo's who was, rather unfortunately, standing overly close to it. Boy and dummies landed in a mess of limbs before Theo emerged from the scrap red faced and indignant. Before Quirrell could even react he had launched the jinx at Weasley who only barely managed to duck out of the way. It escalated from there with Weasley and Dean Thomas firing back at his classmate and involving Draco in the fray. Suddenly jinxes were flying left right and center with Harry narrowly dodging a stray spell and firing back in the general direction of Seamus Finnegan who took it to the chest and crashed into the wall.

"Stop, stop this madness!" Quirrell cried but tempers were frayed beyond reason and the spells kept flying until a flash of searing light filled the room and all the students stopped to shield there eyes. Momentarily blinded, Harry was surprised when his wand leaped from his hand. By the time he could see more than spots most of the students had been divested of their wands and the spell fire had ceased altogether.

"I have never seen such a display of idiocy even in my years as a student," Quirrell seethed. "Fifty points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor." This was met with widespread groans punctuated with cries of protest and argument but the Defence professor remained unmoved. "You can consider this lesson to be over and as punishment you will all submit an essay no less than two foot of parchment on the responsible use of Jinxes."

The crowd shuffled around and gathered their bags an equipment to leave but he continued, "Potter, Malfoy, Weasley stay behind. You too he said, pointing out Dean Thomas and Theo. And you, yes you," he said to Daphne as she slinked towards the door. She slumped slightly and the bag dropped from her shoulder as she trudged back to the remaining students.

"Profess-" Weasley started but Quirrell interrupted him.

"No. I don't want to hear any of it. It's not so long since I was a student myself and while I understand how these situations can escalate, every one of you standing before me was a more than active participant. You'll all receive detention tonight as well as the loss of points incurred and hopefully you might learn to control your tempers in the future." Quirrell finished with the air of a man who simply had a list of better things to be getting on with. He turned and strode away from the group who needed no prodding to take it as a dismissal.

Outside, the Gryffindors left without a word but cold stares were exchanged on both sides and when they were gone Harry rounded on Theo. "What do you think you were doing back there?"

"What are you talking about? That idiot Weasley dropped a dummy on my head!"

"Yes but it was an accident," Harry said, exasperated.

"And it was two dummies," Daphne pointed out, "accidentally."

"If Weasley can't control his spells he deserves to be jinxed," Theo maintained, striding ahead undeterred.

Draco had pulled ahead of the group but stopped and turned back towards them, a confused look on his face. "There's one thing about that whole mess I'm missing, who did you jinx, Daphne?"

Harry paused to consider that, he was wrapped up in avoiding spells himself and returning them twofold, he hadn't noticed Daphne.

The girl in question carried on nonchalantly, not turning as she replied. "That muggleborn Granger was hiding at first but she plucked up the courage to cast a few sneaky spells of her own. I was just defending my friends."

"No, no, that's not the full story, " Theo prompted. "I saw you hit Parvati Patil hard, she was crying."

At that Daphne looked over her shoulder with an unsettling grin. "That one was just for fun."

Harry shook his head but he couldn't help but hold back a grin. Granger had been a particular annoyance to almost everyone in their year and the times he had met up with Terry the Ravenclaw was constantly moaning about her. If a professor asked a question she would almost burst out of her skin to answer it and if anybody else was chosen she would be visibly upset.

"The other years are probably going to kill us for losing all those points," Theo said as they walked on after a moment's silence.

"We just say they fired the first spell, as long as we all stick to that we'll be fine." Draco said confidently.

For the first time since they started at Hogwarts, it seemed to Harry that they were in total agreement.

Their detention schedule was given to them by a prefect during dinner which only succeeded in gaining them a few more cold glares from the already frosty Slytherin table. Happily though, Draco's prediction had come true and after initially being bombarded with abuse from the upper years the talk had switched to the unfairness of it all and mutterings about the brazenness of the first year Gryffindors.

There had been a fair amount of animosity coming their way from across the hall too and Harry had guessed that the Gryffindors had used much the same strategy as they had. Shunting the blame had worked surprisingly well.

The common room had settled down for the evening and Harry had found a nice cosy table and chair on one of the upper levels of the amphitheater like depression to practice the fire making charm from Hestia's notes. She'd written little tips for Harry throughout her book and one of them informed him that the spell was needed for Charms, Herbology and while not taught specifically for the class, was useful in Potions. It was nice to think she had spent so much time editing the book just to help him and it made the present all the more special to him.

Small licks of fire spluttered forth from his wand intermittently but he struggled to find any consistency. On one of his more successful attempts the fire suddenly died on the tip of his wand and he looked around to see an older student frowning at him.

"Practice that somewhere else so you don't burn down the common room, Potter." a barrel chested N.E.W.T student told him.

Harry rolled his eyes and sank back into his armchair, almost glad when Daphne arrived.

"How long do you think they'll be mad at us?" He asked.

Daphne shrugged and crossed her legs as she sat down opposite him. "Hopefully just a few days. I swear Melinda Warrington bumped into me on purpose earlier, the big brute."

Harry snorted. The older sister of one of the boys in third year, Melinda was known for her size and aggression rather than her manners. "I bet it hurt."

"Like you wouldn't believe," she replied sourly.

Harry winced in sympathy then sat forward. "So what's detention like in Hogwarts?" He asked. All they had been told was that they were to meet at the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom at eight, a time that was rapidly approaching.

"I don't know and nobody will tell me. One of the older students was making fun earlier and said we'd be taken out to the Forbidden Forest but I think he was just trying to scare me." She said, unconcerned.

"Draco seems less moody today," he said.

Their classmate's moodiness had been a constant source of annoyance to them after Harry's failed attempt to talk to him the week before, more so to Theo and Daphne who had known him longer. He had barely talked to anyone all week and preferred to walk to classes alone as well as sitting isolated at dinner. To Harry's surprise he had seemed to come around a little after the chaotic scenes in the day's Defence lesson though.

"I hope so, he's being a proper little pain at the minute."

"That's not fair, Daphne. From what you've told me he's been through a lot." Harry said, evenly.

"Yes he has but that's no excuse to walk around the castle like a Hippogriff with dirty feathers." She insisted.

"I don't know what that means."

Once again, Daphne rolled her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot around him he'd noticed. "You're such a muggle sometimes."

Harry didn't answer her, preferring instead to fidget with his wand and making a note to himself to find out what a Hippogriff was.

They sat in silence for a moment before Daphne spoke up "When the Headmaster took you away from the muggles, where did he take you? Where do you live now?" She asked.

Harry was a little surprised at the abrupt change in topic and shuffled in his seat. "There's an old house in the Pennines that belonged to one of my relatives a long time ago. Professor Dumbledore fixed it up for me and I lived there with one of my parent's best friends until I came to Hogwarts," he replied, feeling a little sad at the thought of Remus.

"Oh, do you like it there?"

"It's loads better than my relatives house, I don't have to do as many chores and my whale of a cousin wouldn't make it that far up a mountain." he grinned.

"You guys ready?" a voice came from behind him. He turned in his chair to see Theo and Draco looking sullen.

Daphne let out a dramatic sigh and heaved herself out of her chair. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The four Slytherins filed out of the room in companionable silence, unaware of the pair of eyes watching them.

Detention was predictably boring. They had met with Weasley and Thomas outside Quirrell's classroom and the two groups stayed silent, eyeing each other distrustfully. When the Defence professor arrived he split them into pairs and assigned them each an old classroom to clean without magic. Then again, Harry and the others knew no real cleaning magic anyway so it was a somewhat wasted directive.

Fifteen minutes later Harry found himself with a bucket of water wiping down desks in a dusty old classroom that according to the brass plaque on the door hosted Ghoul Studies at one point in time.

He and Weasley hadn't spoken a word to each other the entire time and Harry was getting properly sick of the silence. "What are Ghouls?" Harry asked trying to break the tension.

There was a moment's silence and then he heard Ron stop scrubbing.

"They're, you know, _ghouls,_ " he replied simply. At Harry's blank look he continued. "They usually live in attics or cellars in wizarding houses. They're not very smart, they just make a lot of noise and eat bugs mostly. There's one living in my attic that makes an awful racket whenever it feels like annoying us."

"Can't you get rid of it?" Harry asked.

Ron picked up his bucket and walked to the next table. "Well yeah we could, but it's our ghoul, it's been in the house forever. Wouldn't be right to just throw it out."

Harry finished his desk and moved on. "So if they're just pets then why is there a Ghoul studies classroom?"

"No idea. I think Dad said once there was a big argument on whether or not they could be considered 'beings' so maybe its to do with that?" Harry accepted the answer and the two boys kept cleaning.

A few minutes later it was Ron that broke the silence. "You know I didn't mean to hit Nott with that dummy. Dunno why he had to try to jinx me."

"I know, Theo does too, he just seems to have a short temper."

"It was kind of fun though, it was like a real battle," he replied with a wistful smile.

Harry couldn't help but grin. Defence class that day had been a catastrophe but he couldn't honestly say it wasn't a little fun.

"Losing points wasn't fun though, the rest of the house was so mad." Harry said ruefully.

"Yeah that was bad, but we were jinxing slimy Slytherins though so the house understood."

Harry looked over and Ron was grinning. "Slimy Slytherins? Did it take the whole of your house to come up with that?"

"That's just what you are, dungeons are slimy, snakes are slimy. It fits."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I heard Gryffindors had rocks for brains but I didn't believe it until now."

"We'll see once we beat you to the quidditch cup and the house cup." Ron said confidently.

"I don't know much about quidditch but you have no chance in the house cup."

"We have Hermione she'll win us us loads of points." He said with a wave of his hand.

Harry had to concede that was probably true, the bushy haired girl seemed to be good for at least five points a class much to his annoyance.

Time went by a little faster as they cleaned their respective desks and moved on to dusting down the walls and sweeping the floors. They continued talking about their classes and Ron described the Gryffindor common room to him proudly declaring it to be the best room in the castle by a mile.

"I'm just saying, the common room really feels like home. I can't imagine ever living in the dungeons with Snape," he said with a shudder.

Harry disagreed heartily, arguing that the Slytherin common room was cosy in its own way and far, far cooler than what Ron had described. Of course Ron couldn't accept that so they moved on to talking about Quidditch. The Gryffindor couldn't believe that he knew so little about the sport and he'd admitted that he was impressed with Harry's flying in their first class with Madam Hooch. Ron took his lack of knowledge as an opportunity to convert him and went on to sing the praises of the Chudley Cannons despite Harry admitting that while he loved flying he wasn't all that interested in the sport.

"You'd make a great Chaser or Seeker for Slytherin next year so I suppose it's a good thing you're not interested," Ron said, finally giving up.

When they were done the two first years sat down on the edge of a desk and surveyed their work. The classroom would never fully shake its ghoulish origins but it was at least quite clean and Harry was sure it would be enough to satisfy the Defence professor.

"I think we're done." Harry said, hoisting up his bucket of filthy water. Ron gathered the brooms and mops and they left the room behind them.

"I thought working with a Slytherin was going to be awful but you're not that much of a prat." Ron said as if he'd reached a difficult decision.

Harry snorted. "Yeah well you still have rocks for brains," he said, receiving a shoulder for his trouble.

They made their way down the Serpentine Corridor and back towards the defence classroom when they heard an awful commotion coming from one of the unused classrooms ahead of them. When they reached them they found the door ajar and inside Dean Thomas and Theo were glaring at each other, boat sopping wet with their wands out, mops and buckets discarded on the floor.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded, annoyed. He was sure he had the gist of it and their childishness grated on him.

"This stupid half-blood has half a brain, that's the problem," Theo shouted.

"Say that again, ponce," Dean threatened, gripping his wand tight with anger.

"Would both of you stop being so stupid?" Ron said much to Harry's surprise. "You want to lose us all more points?"

"He's been doing nothing for the last hour while I cleaned, what's the matter Nott, afraid of getting your hands dirty?" Dean taunted.

"My hands are dirty enough from being around you," Theo countered.

"Stop being such prats the two of you. Theo, I'll help you and Ron will help Dean so we can all get out of here," Harry said, striding over between them and picking up the mop bucket. He looked to Ron and the redhead nodded in agreement before taking Dean to the far side of the classroom.

The four of them spent the next twenty minutes cleaning in tense silence only broken by the occasional barb their housemates would fire at each other.

"That guy might be the biggest arse I've ever met," Theo said to him as they finished up their half of the classroom.

"I'm sure he thinks the same about you. You could have at least tried to get along."

"What like you and Weasley? Did the two of you have a nice cosy chat? I hate to disappoint you but it's too late for you to join Gryffindor." Theo said snidely.

"Just shut it and let's get out of here," he said as Ron and Thomas started to finish up.

Theo had really annoyed him and he could see no reason why the boy had to behave like such a brat. He silently hoped that at least Daphne and Draco had fared better and was relieved that it was he and Ron who had stumbled on the argument. He had no doubt Draco and Daphne would have made it far worse.

Once again they gathered their equipment and left the room, companionable good humour replaced with frosty tension.

Harry guessed that it had to be after ten and at this time, well past curfew the halls were deserted and the third floor held an ominous atmosphere that cloaked every corner in shadows cast by barely lit sconces.

The only sounds were their footsteps and the occasional howl of wind outside shaking the windows in their frames. As nice as the castle was during the day Harry had to wonder why people were so creeped out by the dungeons when at this time the castle resembled a Halloween haunted house.

Samhain, he corrected himself. He really needed to stop thinking like a muggle.

A loud crash echoed through the hallway followed by an ear splitting roar causing them all to jump and look around wildly, ahead of them there around the corner at the end of the hallway there was a flash of spellfire and then an eerie warbling siren, then a scream.

Harry looked at Theo and it immediately registered. That was the the direction Draco and Daphne had went to their classroom. Without a word Harry sprinted off with Theo following behind calling him, "Harry, wait. Don't be stupid!" The smaller boy called but Harry barely heard, rushing to the end of the hallway and turning left. There was no sign of Draco and Daphne in the hall but farther down, Harry saw that the commotion was coming from the forbidden third floor corridor. He paused for half a second before continuing on and right behind him were Ron and Dean with Theo following, albeit with more caution.

Ahead of them a figure appeared cloaked in black and hurled a violent looking red spell behind him. There was a loud pained yelp that echoed out above the annoying siren sound and the horrible strangled barking sound ceased. The four boys came to a halt about fifty feet shy of the cloaked stranger who was standing still as a statue in the intersection.

The figure contorted in an unnatural fashion and writhed its form around until it was facing them. The only sound was the deafening siren and the blood pounding in Harry's ears as a chill ran up his spine.

"Where are Draco and Daphne?" He shouted out.

The figure said nothing, remaining silent and still.

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the figure. "Where are they?" He demanded again.

This time the figure did move, raising its wand in a twisted mirror image.

"This is stupid, we should get Professor Quirrell," Theo interjected.

"What and let this guy get away? No chance," Ron said, brandishing his wand.

"Can I please remind everyone that we don't even know if Draco and Daphne are down here? Their classroom was back behind us." Theo implored.

A flash of red light erupted from the figure's wand and missed Harry by inches. He didn't know what that was and he didn't care to find out first hand. He knew the four of them would get hurt if they tried to fight the stranger but they only needed to hold him up until the teachers arrived.

"Flipendo!" he cried out, and he heard the others follow suit. The figure sliced his wand down and easily quashed the incoming spells but missed the jet of bright blue light that had come from behind the boys and crashed into his chest causing him to drop to his knees and spasm.

"Expelliarmus," Quirrell intoned casually as he strode past the four boys.

The figure rolled to his right and brought his wand up to cast a long stream of malevolent looking purple flame at the Defence professor who erected a beautiful shimmering dome that covered himself and the boys. When the fire spluttered out Harry cast the knockback jinx while Quirrell cast a spell of his own. The figure sidestepped Quirrell's spell but walked into the path of Harry's jinx and was tossed backwards.

Ropes appeared from Quirrell's wand and lashed out at the wizard but he severed them with a flick of his wand and dodged another jinx from Harry.

The other boys seemed to have caught their bearings though and they started casting the jinx at the wizard again, along with Draco and Daphne who had appeared from nowhere by his side, the two of them red faced and sweating. The combined assault from the six first year students and their defence professor caused the wizard to suddenly turn desperate and lash out viciously with a barrage of white hot lights that ricocheted around the small corridor like moletn lead and forced Quirrell to cast the dome shaped shield again that seemed to strain under the weight of the assault. Gone was their professor's calm demeanor as he looked almost pained holding back the spell.

The corridor filled with blinding bright light and Harry could see nothing, nothing at all but the endless sea of white and dancing spots. When it faded it took more than a few moments for his sight to return and he found the other first years in a similar state, Quirrell too.

He searched for the wizard and found him dangling from the ceiling trussed up and struggling.

"Excellent work students," Dumbledore said, standing behind them casually, his wand pointed at the cloaked wizard. His words were cheery but Harry thought he could see a fiery anger in the man's eyes and merely standing so close to him he thought he could feel the Headmaster's will formed and palpable, rolling off of him in waves.

"And you too of course, Quirinus," He smiled.

Quirrell straightened himself up and dusted down his robes which seemed covered in what looked like to Harry little motes of burning magic.

"How do you think he got in?" He asked the Headmaster.

"I believe that he was here all along," Dumbledore replied.

Footsteps echoed behind him and Professors Snape, McGonagall and Sprout arrived on the scene, wands out. The Herbology teacher looked speechless, gaping at the intruder.

"Albus! What in Merlin's name is going on?" She asked.

"It seems Quirinus and the children have done us a great service, Poppy. Minerva, Severus, would you be so kind as to escort your students back to their common rooms?"

McGonagall looked startled at the scene but nodded and motioned for Ron and Dean to follow her. As they walked off Ron waved a small goodbye to Harry and gave him a look that said they'd be catching up about this soon.

Snape was expressionless but nodded and turned on his heel. They hesitated for a moment before walking after him.

"I think thirty points each is a suitable reward for all your help tonight," Dumbledore called out without turning, his gaze still focused on the wizard bound to the roof.

Snape paused for a moment before nodding and continuing on, Harry and company following in his wake bursting with questions they didn't dare voice.


	6. Chapter Five

**As a small note, for anyone who might confuse the pronunciation, "Samhain," is pronounced "Sow-an" with Sow rhyming with cow. It often gave me shivers to hear it pronounced "Sam-hayne" in shows like Supernatural and more recently, Chilling adventures of Sabrina.**

 **Once again, thanks to DLP. Their Work by Author section is among the finest writing spaces on the internet.**

 **Chapter Five**

"You all agree that it had to be a Death Eater so I'm just saying he had to be looking for something," Theo insisted.

"We haven't all agreed on whether or not he was a Death Eater, actually, and I don't see what difference it makes in the end," Draco whispered back fiercely.

Harry sat back in his chair and leaned his head to stare at the common room ceiling. It wasn't one piece of vaulted stonework but a tapestry of mortar dobbed flint with occasional bursts of amber and translucent green rocks that broke the grey and made it appear as the roof was watching with inhuman eyes. All in all, it was much more interesting than listening to his friends argue over the same points they had been tearing apart for almost two months.

The three of them sat at a round table at the outskirts of the common room, near the top level and farthest away from the black lake. They had taken to sitting in the same area every evening out of habit and a desire to avoid the constant barrage of questions from older students, but even so it barely worked. Even six weeks after the night of their detention, students eyed them suspiciously.

Professor Snape had brought them down into the dungeons but before returning them to the common room he had ushered them into his private potions lab and rounded on them, berating them with questions they didn't have the answers to. Even when he was satisfied that they had come across the scene accidentally he called them called them 'snivelling idiots' for running into a situation like that in the first place.

Harry had never been on the receiving end of Snape's ire and had always taken a guilty pleasure in watching him go off at the Gryffindor students in Potions but that night he felt sympathy for them, especially Ron who he had gotten along with quite well during detention and seemed to be a frequent recipient of the potion master's fury. The kindest thing Snape had managed to say about his actions were that at least they had won back the points they lost for the house, and that had been through gritted teeth. It had also been impressed on them that if a single word of the night's events were to be spoken the repercussions would be beyond dire and Harry had no intentions of testing the man.

Harry was sure that Professor McGonagall would have imposed similar silences on Ron and Dean, but despite that the very next evening the whole school was awash with the news of a break in and that several first years had been involved.

Unfortunately, the most common opinion was that Harry had helped a dark wizard break in only to be stopped by the Gryffindors along with Professor Quirrell. He hadn't been given much chance to talk to Ron about that particular rumour as the Gryffindor students tended to close rank around their hero who could only look at Harry sheepishly. The one time he did get to talk to him, the red haired boy had only said he didn't know how that story had gotten around and that he'd stuck up for Harry but the tale had grown legs of it own.

It had bothered him as the result was even more people staring at him than on a regular day. Whispers of people wondering why he wasn't expelled were common, though 'whispers' turned out to be a generous term. Several times he had heard people call him 'the Dark Lord's heir' as if the lunatic hadn't killed his parents and tried to kill him to boot. The aftermath had resulted in him being given several detentions, though all supervised with Snape who sneered at his inability to control himself but otherwise largely left him to himself.

Slytherin house was a strangely mixed bag regarding the rumours. There were several hearty congratulations and Theo seemed to shine in the limelight, acting coy and mysterious to all who approached looking for information.

"I wish I could tell you what happened but they made us swear an oath," or "I'm just glad we got to help Hogwarts and win back those points," were the kind of thing he'd say to people who asked.

There were also those who resented the fact that they were being painted in a bad light merely because they were from Slytherin and the whole mess had caused the rift between Slytherin and Gryffindor to the wider detriment of peace throughout the castle.

Still, many students in their house acted strangely around them, as if the first years were some sort of violent potion that could blow up at any moment yet were still enough of an oddity to keep an eye on.

The whole mess had taken some of the charm away from Hogwarts in Harry's eyes and it didn't help that his classmates would often argue about the specifics.

Draco turned and pointed at him while talking to Theo. "If that was a Death Eater don't you think he would have tried harder to kill Harry? Possibly me too?"

"But why would he kill his leader?" Theo grinned, wagging his finger.

Harry didn't look at the boy but waved his wand under the table and muttered an incantation. Within several seconds Theo practically fell out of his chair and threw himself on the ground rubbing his rear as bluebell flames danced around his seat cushion.

Harry turned to him, "I'm getting very sick of those jokes, Theo."

His friend was red faced with anger and pain but had the grace to look apologetic. "Didn't know it was getting to you that bad, you could have said."

"He has you dolt, repeatedly," Daphne said from her couch only a short way away. The blonde was reclining and using her wand to try to get a needle to stitch a thread for her which was turning out passably well. Like Harry, she seemed to have a flair for charmwork.

"Did anyone ask for your opinion? At all?" Theo asked, exasperated.

"If you did more often maybe you wouldn't have a burned arse."

Harry laughed at her reply while extinguishing the flames. Theo nervously prodded the seat cushion before he sat back down. "Words like 'arse' aren't very ladylike, Daphne. What would your mother think?"

"My mother would understand that it was a necessary evil," she said primly.

Theo made a face that the blonde ignored and turned back to them. "At least we can agree that it was a dark wizard. Something is being guarded on the third floor. It has to be some sort of dark artefact."

"Which is why we should leave it well enough alone. Let Weasley figure it out and get in trouble." Draco said, as if it settled matters.

Harry was inclined to agree. Their one attempt to revisit the third floor corridor had made it clear that Dumbledore had further protected the area. In this case by simply removing it. Where there was once a long, dark corridor there now was a nook with stone seating and and an open air window that at first they thought was some sort of illusion. He'd dropped an apple that he had nicked from lunch out of it and the way it plummeted down the facade of the castle and splattered into paste made it clear it that it wasn't a trick. Harry had been utterly amazed that such a thing was even possible while his friends had taken it well in stride.

"Draco is right on this one, Theo. That entire section of the castle is just gone. Whatever they were hiding is probably gone too."

Theo sat back sullenly in his chair and Harry could tell he wasn't going to let the matter go. At the time Theo had been hesitant to get involved at all but it seemed he enjoyed the aftermath so much he may have gotten fond of the limelight.

"Can we talk about happier things for a change?" Daphne piped up, swinging her legs around and sitting up straight. "Samhain is almost here and that's all we should be thinking about."

At the mention of Samhain everyone sat up a little and even Draco, sullen as he usually was, grinned.

"I can't wait for the feast," Harry said, "I hope they have treacle tart again."

"It's the biggest feast of the year, can't see why they wouldn't." Theo said.

"I can't wait for the dancing," sighed Daphne, "Or seeing who gets the charms in the brack."

"I can't wait until I know what that even means." Harry quipped.

Daphne looked at him in annoyance before her features softened slightly. "We really need to educate you on traditions before you make a fool of yourself some day."

"It's okay, I can just tell people I'm Harry Potter and they'll forgive me. Worked on you guys," he said.

Daphne looked at him like he was a badly injured puppy and Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry didn't see the problem. He'd caught on that Samhain was a big deal in the Wizarding world between Pansy's disgust at his ignorance and his friends' prodding that he should take more of an interest, but Halloween wasn't a very happy time for him. The Dursley's had never allowed him to go trick or treating or share in Dudley's sweets, he never got to dress up and there was now the larger matter of him knowing it was the date of his parents' death.

As far as he was concerned the whole event could go hang.

Apart from the feast.

Of course, try as he might to avoid the whole evening it was next to impossible in a castle that had transformed itself into something both haunting and awe inspiring.

Every sconce had been transformed into a jack o' lantern, each one with a different face and a tiny fairy inside flitting around angrily and giving off enough light to throw dancing shadows on the walls. The floors of the castle had sprouted roots every few feet, thick and ancient looking, scattered with leaves of different colours that made every walk to class feel like a stroll through a forest, as well as a serious safety hazard. More than once Harry had tripped and been annoyed enough to cast fire at them only for the roots to emerge from the flame as unblemished as stone.

Rosemary blossomed like ivy interspersed with rowan berries on the ceilings, sometimes hanging low enough to tickle his nose as he walked through the halls, and in every room and hallway there were altars with stones basins filled with steaming water and plants he was told were mugwort which students would often stop at to inhale.

It wasn't anything close to what Harry remembered of muggle Halloween where kids would dress up as ghosts or firemen and he was forced to admit that Samhain for witches and wizards was something altogether different, bordering on religious.

The difference was so jarring in fact that students had been offered an optional class in the evenings that would introduce them to the meaning of Samhain and he had even considered going until Theo and Daphne had strongly protested.

"Merlin's beard Harry you can't go to that class!" Daphne said, rounding on him as he'd brought it up after potions one morning.

"Why not? It was you who wanted me to know more about Samhain in the first place," he replied, confused.

"You're a Potter!"

"And you're a Greengrass. Both funny names but I don't see your point."

Theo turned around and stopped him as they walked. "What Daphne is being too polite to say is that traditionally only muggleborns go to classes like that."

Harry rolled his eyes, "So? I think it counts in my case."

"No, it really doesn't," he continued. "You're a Potter. You're from a really old family, ancient even."

"Harry the only reason your family doesn't make the sacred twenty-eight twenty-nine is that Theo's ancestor was a twit." Daphne said.

"I have no clue what either of you are talking about."

"There are certain families in Britain that are completely pure-blood, they're the twenty-eight." Theo explained.

"What does Theo's ancestor have to do with my family?" Harry asked.

"One of my ancestors was Cantankerous Nott and he wrote the book that included the twenty-eight but he left the Potters and the Diggorys out."

"Gallant Diggory killed him for the offense," Daphne added producing a scowl from Theo.

"Okay so what's the big deal, if the Potters aren't on this list then why shouldn't I go to the class?" Harry said, starting to feel annoyed.

"Just… because," Daphne insisted, her face reddening.

"You're not on the list but the Potters have always been treated as they were." Theo explained.

"The Diggorys too. Both families are old as the hills and it causes too much trouble in the twenty-eight to pretend they aren't."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Our parents teach us our family history of course. What kind of witch or wizard doesn't know where they came from?" Daphne asked, then paused, "Er, sorry. I didn't mean that."

She did mean it, of course and Harry knew it. He felt like he was constantly out of the loop at Hogwarts. No matter that he already knew more magic than anyone in his year in Slytherin, there were these gaping holes in his knowledge about his past and where he belonged in the world. He considered storming off in anger and secluding himself in a nice corner of the library where he could continue his charms work but instead he took a moment to cool.

"It's okay, I get what you're saying. These are things I need to know," he said, the anger draining out of him.

"Really? That easy? I thought you were going to tell her to sod off for a second." Theo said, confused.

"And where would that get me? I have a good handle on magic but I don't even know where to start with culture and history." Harry swallowed the last of his anger and turned to them. "Will you help me with this stuff?"

"Of course we will, won't we, Theo?" Daphne smiled.

"Eh, yeah, no problem. You would have told me to sod off though, just saying," his friend said, annoyed.

"Sod off Theo."

Over the next few days Harry began to regret his request as Daphne took the task of turning him into a 'proper wizard' with intimidating fervour.

She didn't bother trying to teach him etiquette or what she knew of the social niceties that should be observed, she'd proclaimed him far too much of a project for that to be successful. Instead she taught him history and things that other magical children knew out of hand. Samhain and it's history which stemmed from a millenium ago when Wizards and witches in the British isles were revered by muggles and communities would gather to celebrate the bounties of magic and the start of a new year. Light sprang from darkness, she claimed and even though the ministry had years ago converted to celebrating the new year on the first of January, many magical families regarded the first of November as the start of the year. Old grudges would be put to bed at Samhain, bargains struck between families, weddings arranged and curses laid and lifted.

The solstices were important too, Imbolc and the quarters had meanings that differed from family to family and for some reason July was the ideal month for any ritual magic. It had been enough to make Harry's head spin but he could see the approval in his friend's eyes as he slowly learned more of the world around him.

Of course between all this he still had his classes and it was to his constant annoyance that no matter how good his marks were or how much he drove himself to perfect every spell, the Granger girl from Gryffindor either matched his marks or bettered them.

It was a quiet, unspoken rivalry that Harry wouldn't have cared a whit about if she hadn't been so obnoxious about it all.

On the day of Samhain itself they were given a specific task in Transfiguration which involved taking a rock that had lay underwater in the black lake and transfiguring it to a long branch of wood of their own design. They did so on at the lakeside in the crisp October air with minimal instruction from Professor McGonagall and predictably much of the class struggled.

Harry plucked a long smooth stone from the water and managed to coax it into the form of a thick branch of rowan with grooves and spirals notched through the length of it. He was sure his decorations held no actual meaning but they certainly looked the part. Beside him Draco had taken a different approach. Rather than transfiguring the stone in with one spell he had changed it into a block of wood and enlarged it into a long piece of timber. It was a cruder method and he had to carve his decorations into the wood with yet another spell but it served the purpose nicely.

Much of the class struggled though it was a fairly simple transfiguration and the majority followed Draco's route, the only ones attempting the single stage method were Hermione and surprisingly, Blaise, who had never showed much interest in the subject and barely spoke to anybody but Pansy since the first week.

It took another half hour before everybody had successfully finished their branches and Harry spent it lounging by the shore, keeping himself warm by juggling handfuls of bluebell flames. He was trying to control them with the levitation charm with little success when Daphne planted herself down beside him, flushed with excitement. In her hand she held a long white branch, beautifully carved with delicate sweeping lines.

"It's finished!"

Harry sat up to inspect it and thought she'd done a great job, it was impossible to imagine the wood had ever started off as stone.

"Well done, Daphne, it's brilliant," he grinned.

Looking around, nearly everyone seemed to be pleased with their results and showing them off to their classmates. Even bumbling Neville Longbottom had produced a sturdy looking branch that could have been oak or chestnut and he beamed in pride as Ron clapped him on the back.

"Before we break for the evening, who here can tell me why we did this today?" Professor McGonagall called, walking from the shore with her skirts bunched in her hands.

Immediately several hands shot up and she picked out Ron, much to the readhead's own surprise.

"Er, it's meant to bring us closer to magic," he said sheepishly.

McGonagall looked at him expectantly for a moment and ignored Hermione's gesticulations, "Elaborate."

His face flushed slightly, "Well, the stone is under the water and dried by the air, then we change it to wood and later we'll bring it to the fire."

"Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. This process binds our magic with the very elements around us and reminds us that magic itself is a fundamental element of nature. When we craft our spells it's no different that carving a broom from a branch. We're simply borrowing what the world has provided. This is a very important lesson, children. You must appreciate the gifts you've been given, whatever form they take."

Harry hadn't considered that there would be a deeper meaning to their morning's activities but looking around he saw many of his classmates nodding in agreement. It made sense too. Magic was just another part of their world, surrounding everything like the air itself. It seemed strange to him that he wasn't aware of it before, though he had to admit that deep down he always felt that he was different.

Magic was different though, it was everywhere but he knew it wasn't substantial. His first classes had impressed on him that it wasn't a force that could be measured or quantified. It just was. His brow furrowed as he wondered how anybody could really understand it.

McGonagall dismissed the class and they broke apart in small groups. Draco walked by and held out his hand, hauling Harry to his feet and once he dusted down his robes they set off towards the castle, Daphne and Theo in tow. They had a feast to prepare for.

The common room was lit only by the light of the fireplace and the wall sconces as the sun had long set and the lake was a wall of inky darkness.

Draco had taken it upon himself to make sure he was presentable, taming his hair as best he could manage and insisting he wore his least soiled robes. Harry argued that they were all perfectly clean but Draco scowled at any creases while Theo fussed over his hair with an especially caustic enchanted mirror.

Unlike other feasts the whole house gathered in the common room before they left, each student carrying their own branch of wood and with time to spare all of Slytherin was assembled before the fire. The seventh year prefects from Slytherin, a large boy Harry knew as Caius appeared along with his counterpart Adeline appeared and a hush silence fell over the room. Without a word Caius lifted his branch, slender and black as night he fed it into the hearth of the common room and when it was lit Adeline followed suit.

Then, silently as it began, they strode towards the entrance and all of Slytherin followed.

When the doors of the Great Hall opened, they entered a forest. Not just the theme that ran through every classroom and hallway, the hall was filled with real trees that lined the walls out of step and the great stone dias that housed the staff table was an earthen mound. The great roof showed starlight between impossibly high branches. Between the four house tables stood four great braziers, each decorated with iron wrought in the shapes of their house crests and as the houses filed in to take their seats, eight seventh year prefects stood at the doorway with their burning branches held aloft.

There was no pronouncement from the Headmaster, they simply waited until everyone was seated and paying attention. Then, completely synchronised, the eight students walked forward and lit the braziers with their torches. As the flames took hold the hall burst into applause.

Dumbledore stood and all eyes turned towards him. "And now the witching hour is upon us again, we share this feast with family and friends!" His voice rang out through the hall and he clapped his hands, the tables suddenly groaned as they struggled to cope with the sheer weight of food that had appeared.

Steak and kidney pies, stuffed sausage, liver and onions, roast beef, turkey, ham and much more piled high on the table and Harry helped himself to a hefty portion of almost everything after he had tried the beetle soup. (Daphne had assured him that there were no actual beetles involved.)

The welcoming feast was extravagant but the Samhain feast was different. The atmosphere was less charged with nerves and everywhere he looked students were smiling and laughing. He saw Theo laughing with Goyle, not at him in the almost cruel way his friend had since term started.

Hogwarts had never felt so magical.

When it was time for the feast to wind down and students were filling their bellies with desert, Dumbledore stood and called everyone's attention. Harry tore himself away from a bowl of ice cream and half turned in his chair along with everyone else. He grinned when he saw Theo's face covered in chocolate and Daphne politely laying her spoon down on a particular napkin to avoid making a mess.

"It's wonderful to see you all so contented but I'm afraid I must insist do you the terrible injustice of asking you to lay down your spoons for a moment," he said with a guilty smile. "Samhain is a time for family and friends to come together, take stock of the year and begin anew. Look around you and embrace each other. If you've noticed someone having a hard time, reach out and help them even if it means putting yourself at an inconvenience. During the darkest times in our history, Samhain has been an occasion were foes laid down arms and lasting peace was forged. It is this spirit that we would all do well to embrace."

Looking around Harry saw a plethora of different reactions, some were nodding enthusiastically or looking pensive, others looked bored or longingly at their sweets. Many at his own table leaned toward the latter, some, like Draco, ignoring the Headmaster altogether. Harry thought that was quite rude but he knew how temperamental the blonde boy could be. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice regardless and waved his arm out in front of him and all of a sudden the whole hall dimmed. Lights from the jack 'o' lanterns cast longer shadows and the four braziers in the centre of the hall exploded into life, flame rising high above the iron rims.

"If you would all be so kind as to gather yourselves and bring your boughs to the fires, I believe it a perfect night for a stroll through the grounds!" He said with a clap of his hands. The whole hall cheered and clapped, and the scraping of benches against stone resounded through the hall as everyone got up from their seats, dinner forgotten, each student carrying a transfigured bough.

"Come on!" Daphne said as she grabbed Harry's arm. "Just do what I do."

He grabbed his own bough as Theo and Draco rose beside him and Harry noticed even sullen Draco was smiling now. Along with the rest of his house they gathered around their own fire and in front of him, Daphne leaned her branch into the flames until it lit, faster and brighter than it should have. Everyone was lighting theirs from the flames and Harry approached, warily giving his own to the fire. Like the others, the wood caught quicker than a normal branch and he had a roaring torch in no time.

Not all of the flames were casting a soft orange glow, some blue and rarer, green or purple. Harry's own fire was the common soft orange, though every now and then a lick of blue flame would appear and then dissipate.

"What do the different colours mean?" He asked Daphne but Draco stepped in front of her, holding his own torch high.

"Orange for joy, hearty and hale,

Blue as sky, should never fail,

Green will burn from loss and strife,

Violet fears the subtle knife,

White will shine from anger hot,

Most terrible of the lot,"

It was then that Harry noticed the colour of Draco's torch, a deep emerald green as the flames flitted through the air and the centre of the flame was white hot.

"It's a really old poem," Theo supplied helpfully.

"It's meant to help show us what to work towards in the coming year." Daphne said, eyeing her own flame which burned with the soft orange glow of many others. "The purple wasn't there last year," she said sounding offended.

The headmaster and staff lit their own boughs and walked through the hall, the throng of students parting for them to pass and when they were clear, everyone followed them out into the entrance hall and through the huge doors into the cold October night.

Down through the grounds they went, turning left towards the lake and forest as they went leaving the Quidditch pitch and greenhouses far behind. The path down to the lowest section of the grounds was steep and rocky, a different path than they would normally take to the lake but Hagrid's hut was soon in sight. Still they walked on by the lakeshore for what seemed like an hour before the edge of the lake curved and they followed a spit of land out to a wooded grove, surrounded by the lake.

In the middle of the grove there was a large shape obscured by darkness and as they approached the flickering light of hundreds of burning boughs revealed it. It was a shape made from wooden branches into a twenty foot tall wizard holding his wand high into the night sky. The structure felt menacing and its face was a grotesque scowl as if it were pained. At its feet was a pyre wide as it was tall and the collected teachers and students spread around it in a loose circle.

There was no speech or pronouncement, no sound at all in the grove when Dumbledore approached the base and laid his bright blue bough down onto the pyre. The act opened the floodgates and everyone moved forward to lay their own down, Harry laying his at the feet of the great wizard and marvelling as the flames took a life of their own. In less than a minute the pyre was blazing at the feet of the structure and the air around him erupted in hooting and cheering as it started to catch alight.

"Isn't it a bit grim for us to be burning a wizard at the stake?" Harry questioned as Daphne laid hers down.

She looked at him, confused. "But that's half the point."

He shrugged and joined in with the celebrations as the flames rose to the wizard's knees.

When the flames had engulfed the wicker wizard and spiralled high into the sky from the tip of its raised wand, strings sounded and voices joined a lively tune. On one side of the clearing on a mound of earth a small gathering of students had gathered with instruments and Professor Flitwick conducted while they played.

All around him the circle broke apart and people paired up to dance, the older years showing special enthusiasm as they whirled around the grove with their partners.

Moments before, the clearing had been empty aside from the students, teachers and the burning monument, then from nowhere, there were tables laden with sweets and drinks, foaming cauldrons of butterbeer taking centre stage.

Daphne jumped into the fray pulling Theo with her and soon almost everyone was dancing, mostly awkwardly, around the fire. When even Draco whirled by with a small dark haired girl Harry steeled himself and approached Susan Bones who smiled and joined him.

"Good eve'" She said as she span expertly. "Haven't seen you since the train, really."

Harry stood quite awkwardly and tried to move in imitation of the students around him but felt he looked ridiculous.

"Yeah, sorry about that, it's been a busy start to term," he said, feeling embarrassed.

"I know, you must have no time on your hands, being You-Know-Who's heir," she teased.

He just rolled his eyes and continued to dance, albeit badly. "Stop, it's enough hearing it in the halls."

She laughed and they chatted for a few more minutes about nothing at all before leaving to dance with Kevin. Harry made a promise to try to talk to Kevin, Terry and the girls more, they were the first people his age in the magical world he'd talked to after all.

The first and second years didn't dance long, mostly gathering by the long wooden tables in small groups talking animatedly while the older students upped their pace to match the music.

"I don't like that part of it," he said as Theo approached the table.

"What, the dancing?" Theo said, confused. "We dance at Samhain as soon as we can walk!"

"I've never danced before," he admitted. In his old life, he thought that wouldn't have been a problem, but he felt every bit the awkward muggleborn.

"You'll learn to love it," Daphne said confidently, sipping on a small glass of butterbeer. "When we get older it's dances like these that a wizard sweeps a witch off her feet." Her face took on a faraway expression and Harry wondered if someone had slipped her some actual alcohol.

"Far, far older hopefully," he said.

"I've told mother, I don't intend to get married. I'm going to travel the world when I leave Hogwarts," Theo proclaimed.

"Nobody will want to marry you when you still haven't learned a charm to clean your socks," Draco said, pouring himself a flagon of butterbeer.

Theo reddened but raised his head and walked away, as if Draco's comment was beneath him and the blonde boy scowled at his retreating figure. Something had happened that completely went over Harry's head, he was sure of it.

A flash of light shot through the clearing followed by a huge cheer and he turned to see an older student sitting in the turned up mud looking furious.

The music continued but the dancers widened out, giving the two students a wide berth as the dark haired boy got to his feet and raised his wand.

"That didn't take long," Daphne said.

"Well it's the time of the year, those two could have been rivals for months." Draco commented, stepping forward for a better view.

Harry suddenly realised what it was. Daphne and Draco had mentioned it in their crash course on the celebrations. "Old grudges were put to bed at Samhain," she had said.

"Won't the teachers stop it?" he asked.

"No, they'll just make sure it doesn't get out of hand," she said excitedly. "You can't stop someone from settling a score on Samhain."

It appeared she was right, he saw the headmaster near the edge of the fire looking on in disapproval but also, he was certain, with resignation.

The two boys faced each other in silence. They must have been sixth or seventh years, he thought because they both looked much older, calmer and assured. The from nowhere, it started. It was different to their duel with the dark wizard on the third floor, in fact they weren't even close. There were two wizards in that corridor, he realised, for all their collective knockback jinxes the duel was always going to be one or lost between Professor Quirrell and the shadowy figure.

They rarely shouted any spells, opening up with arcs of fire and lightning that the other dispelled easily.

The dark haired boy that had been knocked to the ground waved his wand and a shower of sparks exploded from its tip and with another wave each spark grew to the size of an apple and fell towards his opponent who shielded casually, unmoved.

"That all you got, Howran?" he called and the other boy shouted a spell in anger, a lancing blue light that forced other boy to dive out of the way.

"Eat mud, Uncer," Howran shouted as the crowd erupted in jeers.

The boy called Uncer gathered himself and shot a red spell at Howran who shielded easily but not before a large dog bounded into the back of him and distracted him from a secon red spell that flew through the air and hit him in the face causing Uncer to go slack and fall to the ground. Cheers rang around the circle and people moved back to dance, the duel forgotten as quick as it started.

It was fast, brutal and Harry was sure he hadn't caught all of it. "That was brilliant," he breathed.

Behind him Draco scoffed. "That was sloppy, my father could have duelled them both when he was in school and beat them both at the same time."

Harry didn't say anything to that, it was rare enough that Draco mentioned his father and he never knew what would set the boy off.

"What was it over?" he asked. Draco shrugged. They probably just don't like each other.

"Oh don't be so dry, Draco. It was probably over a lucky witch," she said, almost bouncing on the spot.

Draco feigned gagging and Harry laughed. Half an hour later another duel was declared to even more boisterous cheering and Harry thought that it was going to be a long, fun night after all.


End file.
